Past Reflections
by DragonWolfStar
Summary: The Mirror of Erised doesn't show first-year Harry Potter his family. In fact, he doesn't recognize the image at all. But the reflection sparks something in his soul, and Harry starts remembering a life that isn't his. NO pairings w/Harry!
1. Prologue

A/N: Okay, first thing I wanna say is that this is the entire prologue, but it is still just a teaser. Until I get more outlined and plotted (and most importantly, written) there aren't going to be any more chapters. But yes, this will be continued eventually.

However, I would not object if someone wants to take this idea and run with it. Just let me know first. XD

* * *

Prologue

* * *

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ Harry idly wondered what the inscription meant, before stepping fully in front of the smooth surface of the grand mirror. There was no way he would ever get used to not seeing his own reflection; it was just too weird… almost like muggle vampires. Allowing the hood of the invisibility cloak to drop, he fixed his gaze on the mirror. He jumped, breath catching in his throat. What on earth…?

He glanced around the supposedly empty room. There was nothing there. But the mirror… he looked back.

A tall blond man casually looped an arm around a slender redhead's waist, blue eyes sparkling happily. A baby wriggled energetically in her arms. The baby's hair was the exact same shade as the man's, and Harry knew that the child could only be his. He studied the scene in wonder, taking in the group's carefree expressions and the thriving city behind them. It was beautiful; such joy and peace everywhere in the mirror's image. But what was the point? What did it have to do with him? It was a mirror; shouldn't the reflection show him somewhere in it, however fake it was?

Harry touched the cool glass. The man's eyes met his for a brief moment and Harry felt a sharp thrill of _something_ pass straight through him. Then the moment passed. The man waved, gaze traveling back to the baby's unblemished face.

Harry's fingers trembled on the mirror's smooth surface. "Who are you?" he whispered.

The baby gurgled silently, seeming to wave chubby arms at him, though there was no possible way for the child to know that he was there. The man's eyes followed the baby's wild gestures and Harry braced himself, but the man's gaze didn't lock with his this time. He started to mouth something, but he couldn't make out the words.

The young wizard raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated. "What are you saying?"

The man in the mirror was already looking back at his child. This time there was no reply.

* * *

"Ron," Harry said impatiently. He regretted not letting Ron come with him the night before; the mirror's image had been bugging him all day. Maybe with Ron there he'd be able to figure out what the mirror was trying to portray and why. "Ron, come _on_."

Ron grumbled. "I'm coming, but I really don't see what's so special about some random guy."

"I know. Neither do I. That's why I want to figure it out." Was curiosity really such a bad thing?

He tugged Ron through Hogwart's twisting corridors, finally finding his way back to the room with the strange mirror. "Here, take a look."

Ron stared. "What am I supposed to be looking at? It's just you and me. Don't tell me you dragged me all this way just to look at our reflection, Harry, 'cause we can do that in the bathroom."

Harry shot his friend a dirty look. "No! Look, just… stand in front of the mirror. Here, try standing where I am."

The red-head rolled his eyes but complied. His eyes widened. "Woah!"

"What? What is it?"

"It's me! I… I've got the Quidditch Cup! And I'm Head Boy!"

Harry blinked. That's definitely not what the mirror had shown him. He hadn't even seen his own reflection in the mirror like Ron apparently was, for starters.

"Hey, Harry, d'you think this shows the future?"

The future? "I dunno. It… it just doesn't feel like it." No, the image that the mirror had shown him certainly didn't feel like the future. "And what on earth could it be trying to show me, even if it did?"

Ron shrugged. "Still, it'd be nice if it did, you know? I mean, think about it! Me, Captain _and_ Head Boy!"

Harry laughed. "Yeah. Hey, budge up a bit. I want to see if I can figure mine out."

Ron scowled but obliged. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to so much as glance in the mirror before they heard the sounds of Filch lurking around with Mrs. Norris. Throwing the invisibility cloak around themselves, they hurried back to the Common Room as stealthily as they could.

* * *

Curiosity drove Harry back to the mirror for the third night in a row. Frustrated by his lack of answers but determined to figure out the mirror's strange image, he once more stood resolutely in front of the smooth glass. Nothing about the scene had changed since the last time he had seen it, two nights ago, but he found himself paying more attention to it, taking in smaller details that he had only glanced over before.

Everything had a distinctly Asian feel to it; the slant of the people's eyes, the buildings, any visible writing… The man had on a long coat, edged in scarlet flames. The woman was wearing a pretty but exotic dress of vibrant orange, and her eyes were like twin jade stones. The baby had the man's eyes too, not just his hair. Just… details.

Harry scrutinized every last detail of the picturesque scene, trying vainly to find some clue as to its purpose. A tiny scuffing sound broke him out of his musings.

"Back again, Harry?"

"Uh… hullo, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled benignly, coming to stand next to Harry. "So, you, like many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"Um," he wasn't really sure what to say to that. His experience with the mirror had been less delightful and more confusing than anything else. "I… didn't know it was called that, sir."

"Do you realize yet what it does?"

"Er, well… no, sir."

The elderly wizard looked slightly surprised at that. "Ah, but it showed young Mr. Weasley himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain."

Harry wondered briefly how the Headmaster knew that, before dismissing the thought. "But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Perhaps a hint? The happiest man on earth would look into this mirror and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

He frowned. That made it sound like the mirror showed what the viewer wanted, but that couldn't be true. He couldn't even figure out who it was he was seeing! Realizing that the Headmaster was waiting for a reply, he shook his head.

The elder wizard blinked at that. "The Mirror shows us the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts," he said softly. "Young Mr. Weasley, who has always been in the shadows of his older brothers, sees himself outshining them all. However, I should warn you, this mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by the possibilities they see, never knowing if what they see will or can ever be within their grasp."

Dumbledore looked like he was going to continue, but Harry interrupted, "But…" he trailed off uncertainly.

The Headmaster watched him patiently. When no answer seemed forthcoming, he gently prompted, "Yes?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind, sir."

But… how could something he didn't even know of be the 'deepest and most desperate desire of his heart?'

As he slipped into bed that night, he dreamed.

* * *

"_Kakashi-"_

"_Look out!"_

"_Demon! DEMON!! KYUUBI!!!"_

"_Kuchiyose!"_

"_Congratulations, graduate…"_

"_RASENGAN!!!"_

"_Ha, ha, sensei. Look…"_

"_Naruto… please…"_

"_Proud to name you…"_

"_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"_

"_Goodbye."_


	2. Divergence

A/N: Chapter One! Please don't start expecting frequent updates. I'm totally making this up as I go along, and that never bodes well. (The reason my other story is suffering is 'cause I don't have anything outlined past chapter ten... where I'm stuck.)

I feel I should warn you now: This will be mainly in the HP verse, 'cause I don't know enough about the Naruto verse to write a good fanfiction for that series.

* * *

Chapter One - Divergence

* * *

The next morning left Harry feeling exhausted, confused, and frustrated. The strange dreams had seemed to flit through his mind, leaving only vague, indecipherable impressions. The only thing he knew for sure was that, in some way, the dreams were connected to the image the Mirror had shown him, but he was at a loss to discover exactly how. He needed more information, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it for now except wait.

Wait for more dreams… and wait for another chance to view the Mirror.

Unfortunately, when he got to the room that night, the Mirror was gone.

Harry stared in almost-disbelief at the empty spot where the Mirror of Erised had been. What was he supposed to do now? He didn't think the dreams were going to go away; not when they seemed so magical in nature. In fact, he knew they weren't going to go away.

Sighing, he turned to leave when something on the floor caught his eye, exactly where the Mirror had once stood. Stooping, he picked up a slip of parchment.

_It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live._

It was the same loopy handwriting as the one on the note left with his cloak. Clearly, they had been written by the same person. Equally clearly, they had both been written by Dumbledore. But… if Dumbledore had given him the cloak, why had he even had it in the first place?

He sighed again, supposing that it didn't matter for now. He was in no position to demand answers from the Headmaster in any case. Besides, he had more important things to be worrying about. Slightly disheartened, he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room and collapsed tiredly into bed.

* * *

The remainder of Christmas break passed quickly, and soon enough Hermione was back at the castle and demanding to learn what they had figured out about Nicolas Flamel. Which was exactly nothing.

"Forgot? What do you mean 'forgot?'"

Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry Hermione. I've been a bit distracted lately."

Ron shot him a glare from his bed. "Yeah, and kept everyone else awake while you were at it."

Hermione blinked. "Has something happened?"

"Harry's been having nightmares."

Harry scowled. "Have not. They're not nightmares. Just… unusual dreams."

"Yeah? Well, I'd hate to sleep anywhere near you when you have a _real _nightmare."

Hermione interrupted the escalating squabble. "What are they about?"

"Well," Harry replied hesitantly, "I don't exactly know." It wasn't really a lie. Apart from a few phrases and meaningless words, the only thing he could remember was the sight and sensation of _red_. And that could mean any number of things, especially since his emotions couldn't seem to stay consistent when confronted with the color. Love, hate, fear, grief, joy… it was never just one thing, and it was starting to carry over into his waking life, too. It made staying in Gryffindor tower absolute hell.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, indeed. '_Try telling me that after you've been having weird dreams for a week or two_,' Harry thought in annoyance.

Ron grumbled, swiping Harry's last Chocolate Frog from its box. At Hermione's raised brow, he just muttered. "…owes me for keeping me up a week straight." She rolled her eyes.

"Ugh. Dumbledore, _again_," Ron groaned, tossing the card negligently to the floor. Harry froze before nearly diving at the card.

"Woah, mate. Didn't know you liked those that much."

Harry scowled up at him. "I don't! I _knew _I had read about Nicolas Flamel before…"

"That card's _Dumbledore_, Harry."

Harry ignored him, showing the card to Hermione. "See? Says here that Dumbledore worked on alchemy with_ Nicolas Flamel_!" he exclaimed, shooting Ron a dirty look. Ron just shrugged, swallowing the last of the frog.

Before either of the boys could say anything, Hermione was running out of the room. Fortunately, her return was equally quick. She wasted no time in flipping through the pages of the book she had brought with her, explaining the discovery of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Something about it struck a chord in Harry and he frowned at Hermione's explanation of the Stone's powers.

"Blimey," Ron breathed. "_Anyone _would want that!"

Harry shook his head, an odd feeling of disgust causing his lip to curl in disdain. Immortality. Why did that word make him feel so… angry? A brief flash of yellow eyes crossed his vision. He blinked, and both the eyes and the feeling were gone.

Hermione was looking at him in concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

She didn't look like she believed him, but let the matter drop. Then she paused, as if something had just occurred to her. "Wait. Ron, is there a Chocolate Frog card about Nicolas Flamel? I can't imagine there not being one, not when he created the Sorcerer's Stone, of all things."

Ron blinked before flushing slightly. "Er… maybe?"

"RON!"

* * *

Harry clutched the snitch in his fist curiously, trying to recall the peculiar feeling of ecstasy and _power _he'd felt when chasing down the little streak of gold. It hadn't been the flight, he knew. Flying made him feel good; it made him feel weightless and free, but he'd never felt like… like a hunter when flying before. No, hunter wasn't the right word. Predator. He'd felt like a _predator_.

The cheers of his Housemates broke his train of thought, and he grinned when he heard Ron proudly proclaim that he'd decked Malfoy. Surprisingly enough, Hermione didn't appear at all upset that Ron had hurt another student, though Harry supposed that was just because she was glad that she didn't have to wipe him off the pitch.

Harry laughed, somehow managing to weasel his way through the crowd and to the locker rooms. He relished in the peace and quiet; the rest of the team was still outside cheering with everyone else… except perhaps, the Slytherins. The silence didn't last all that long however, as first Katie and then the twins slipped inside. (He'd been surprised that the twins hadn't spent more time milking the crowd for all it was worth, but then he'd heard them muttering about Firewhiskey and Hogsmeade and decided he didn't want to know.) The remaining members of the team slowly trickled inside, with Wood the last and looking extremely proud of himself.

He didn't end up leaving until some time later, after Wood's post-game discussion, where, despite his good mood, he insisted on finding every fault he could in their plays.

"It's all for the better! We want to win the Cup, don't we?"

Still, Quidditch Cup or not, it was pretty late when the team trooped inside, with Harry hanging back a bit. As tired as he was, he didn't want to drop off his prized Nimbus 2000 just yet. It was, after all, the second gift he had ever been given. He couldn't help but be attached to it.

Carefully locking the broomshed behind him, Harry turned to make his way to the castle when he caught sight of a dark figure making its way toward the Forbidden Forest. Snape. No one else that lived at Hogwarts quite had the prowling walk that one Severus Snape did.

What was he up to? Curious and definitely suspicious, Harry silently followed behind, adjusting his stride so that he could walk more quietly over the fallen leaves of the forest.

After a few minutes of trailing behind the potions professor, he caught sight of Quirrell. What was _he _doing out here, of all people?

The Defense Professor stuttered out a nervous greeting at Snape. The potions professor sneered at the man. "Oh, I thought we'd keep this private. Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry froze, an icy feeling working its way up his gut. Did Snape know that he and his friends knew? If he did, how? If he didn't, then had another student figured it out? And if that was the case, then who else knew about the Stone that wasn't supposed to? He shook his head. Listen now, think later.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, _Quirrell_. Unlike Dumbledore, I haven't been fooled by your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't –"

"Very well," Snape interrupted. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." The entire discussion had been pretty ambiguous as to where _Snape_'_s _loyalties lay, though. He whirled around, stalking in the general direction of the castle.

Harry watched him leave, waiting until the potions professor was long gone before starting to follow. Before he could take a step, he heard Quirrell hiss in frustration. Harry blinked. The sound had been totally unlike anything he had ever heard from his normally timid professor. A second voice had Harry whipping around, but he couldn't see anyone other than Quirrell.

"_Fool! I will not have you spoil things for me now, not when I am so close! You are lucky that it was Snape that caught you. Next time it could be Dumbledore_."

"I'm sorry, master," Quirrell stated, with no trace of his usual stutter, "it will not happen again."

"_It had better not_."

Harry took a step backward. A twig snapped.

Quirrell's wand was suddenly in his hand. "Who's there? Show yourself!" The other voice was silent.

Harry hardly dared to breathe as Quirrell, who suddenly seemed absurdly threatening, moved in his direction. Slowly, he lowered himself down and worked a stone out of the soil. Straightening himself up again, he threw the rock. It landed with a rustle against the leaves, and Quirrell whipped around to face the sound. Harry backed away silently, running once he felt he was far enough that Quirrell couldn't hear him.

He realized then, with startling clarity, that they now had bigger things to deal with than Snape.

* * *

"Are you sure this has nothing to do with your… you know," Ron said, eying Harry nervously.

"My _what_?" Harry asked, irritated.

"With… uh… those funny dreams you've been having."

"Excuse me?"

"We're not saying that we don't believe you, Harry" Hermione said carefully. "It's just… look at it from our point of view for a second. It's a bit difficult to think that Quirrell, of all people… and mysterious voices that come out of nowhere…"

"Hermione! I'm not going crazy! I know what I heard!"

"Well," Ron said with his usual tactlessness, "I dunno about that. Because I haven't slept a wink since you looked at that stupid Mirror."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What? It's true!"

"Look," Hermione interjected, "we would just like a little proof, that's all."

"And what am I supposed to do? I can't just let you look into my mind, or anything," Harry snapped. Why didn't they believe him? He'd never lied to them, ever! He had no reason to.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, and Harry's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he interrupted before she could say anything. "You want proof? I'll give you bloody proof!"

With that, he stomped resolutely to the library, because there really was nothing else he could do.

* * *

Harry scowled at the Restricted Section. There were no books on mind magic in the general section of the library. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything else, short of a repeat incident, that would show Hermione and Ron that he'd been telling the truth.

He could always try sneaking in with the cloak again, he supposed, recalling the shrieking book with a wince. He really didn't think that he could get away with asking a teacher for a pass; not for something like this, anyway.

The sound of several books tumbling to the floor broke him out of his musings. "Hagrid?" It was a miracle he hadn't noticed the man earlier. He was far too unobservant; he'd have to work on that. "What are you doing here?"

Hagrid shuffled nervously, clutching a book so hard Harry was afraid it would break. "Oh, erm, nuthin' Harry, never you mind."

Harry shrugged, wandering over to his friend. This gave him an idea…

"Hagrid?" he asked. "Would you be willing to do me a favor?"

Hagrid blinked. "What do yeh need me ter do?"

"You have access to the Restricted Section, right?"

Hagrid looked at him suspiciously. "Well, yeah."

"Do you think you can get me a few books on mind magic? It's kind of important, only there aren't any in the general section and I'm a little worried about how Professor McGonagall would take it…" he trailed off, looking at the groundskeeper hopefully.

Hagrid frowned. "I don' think –"

"Please, Hagrid? I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think it was important."

"Oh, er, I suppose. Wait here fer a minute while I get yer books." He lumbered off to the Restricted Section.

Harry grinned in satisfaction, idly browsing the section Hagrid had been looking through. '_What's this? Dragons? Hagrid did say that he's always wanted one…_'

He didn't have time to browse further as Hagrid returned with three old and heavy-looking books cradled in his arms. Hagrid dropped them into Harry's hands.

"Hagrid… what are you looking up dragons for?" he asked hesitantly. Hagrid had just done him a huge favor, after all, but he didn't want Hagrid getting into trouble over his idea of a pet…

Hagrid paled. "Never you mind," he muttered. Harry didn't have time to ask anything else before Hagrid hastily made his way out of the library.

Harry didn't like the sudden, awful feeling of foreboding.

* * *

Challenge! For anyone whose up to it, I'm going to be posting challenges down here for the next few chapters or so. All of them will be about Minato, not necessarily Harry Potter, and may or may not be crossovers.

Challenge #1

Summary: Namikaze Minato, newly christened Hokage of Konoha and soon-to-be father, is as certain as he can be of his future. But all that changes when a stranger calling himself only the Doctor appears... and gives him a pocket watch he'd lost as a child. Naruto x Doctor Who Crossover.

Rules: Has to be the Ninth or Tenth Doctor. It does not matter what time-frame, however. As we want this to be about Minato, his personality can't change radically from what it already is. (At least for now, as Time Lords are wierd like that.) One of the main considerations has to be about a shinobi's attitude toward life and death and the Doctor's relative pacifism. (i.e. shinobi will kill, the Doctor views this as failure.) That's it. Any pairing is acceptable.

Please let me know if you take up this challenge!


	3. A Light in the Dark

A/N: I am on a _roll! _I never thought I'd get this much done this quickly, all things considered. Enjoy!

Updates will be weekly _if I can manage it._

* * *

Chapter Two - A Light in the Dark

* * *

Harry was firmly on Ron's side for this one. He just could not believe that, with everything that was going on, Hermione was still obsessive about studying and exams. Not that he wasn't concerned or anything, but really, how important were tests in the face of what was going on with the Sorcerer's Stone?

Realistically they couldn't do anything about it however, and Hermione's suggestion that they just keep watch and let the teachers handle the rest would have to be enough.

Still… Hermione was far too worried about some end-of-year exam that wasn't even very important in the long run. If it was OWL or NEWT year he could possibly understand, but… color-coding? Scheduling her study hours? Worse still, asking Harry and Ron to do the same.

All objections aside, when it really got down to it he'd study with her. He just didn't think it necessary to exert so much effort. Not when the material was so… simple. Of course, when he said this to Hermione, she just glared at him suspiciously. Honestly, what did she think he was doing? Studying in secret in the dead of night? His grades had improved recently, sure, but that didn't really mean anything, did it?

It was fortunate that he found it all as simple as he did though, because he hardly had time to review anything in the first place. The amount of homework the teachers were piling on the students was starting to feel taxing, particularly so to Harry, who had his own extra-curricular studies to consider.

While his forays into mind magic had been fascinating, they hadn't really been useful in that he still hadn't found a way to show Ron and Hermione anything. Neither was it as straightforward as he had previously assumed. In fact, the easiest type of mind magic involved the use of a pensieve, and those were ridiculously rare. The next step up was memory magic, like Obliviation, but those were useless to him at the moment. Of course, there was always Legilimency, but that would require Ron and Hermione to learn it, and even the thought that someone could invade his mind left him uneasy. Uneasy enough that his next topic of research was its counter, Occlumency.

Occlumency was, in a word, _difficult_. It required intense focus and the ability to remove all thought, which meant meditation. Meditation by itself was hard, but in Gryffindor tower it was downright impossible. Not only was there almost no peace with a large group of rambunctious teens and pre-teens all clustered inside, there was _red_ everywhere. (Red; and it was burning and terrifying and _home_ all at once, and he couldn't figure out _why_.) Eventually it got so bad that he had to relocate himself to empty classrooms to practice in. His friends, although probably dying to ask, left him to his privacy.

Still, with the daily meditation the strange dreams were getting clearer and clearer. As a result, he was starting to sleep better (and disturbing Ron less). Progress was slow however, and nothing of note could really be gleaned from his dreams yet, though he was pleased that he was at least getting somewhere.

Unfortunately, that wasn't all that they had to worry about, which was why he, Hermione, and Ron were nervously making their way to Hagrid's hut. The discovery of the egg and Hagrid's slip of tongue was bad enough, but now the beast was _hatching_. Nothing any of the trio said could convince Hagrid that having a baby dragon was a bad thing, either. Not even Hermione's rather pertinent remark about Hagrid's _wooden_ house.

Somehow it just wasn't fair that they'd believe in Hagrid's ownership of an illegal dragon over Quirrell's inner evil.

By the time they reached the hut, Hagrid was practically trembling with excitement, and so was, for that matter, the egg. The sleek black shell already had hairline cracks slowly spreading along its surface, and it was wobbling perilously close to the edge of the table. Harry absentmindedly cast his gaze over the hut, sweeping the curtains more firmly closed. Hermione gave him a funny look. He ignored her. They didn't want just anyone to see this, after all.

Hagrid was grinning unrepentantly as he pushed the egg closer to the center (although it had to be scorching hot). The cracks spread, widening until with one final crunch the shell shattered.

A small, slender body unfurled wrinkled wings in an attempt to dry itself off.

Hagrid whooped, leaning over and giving the dragon a pat on the head. It snorted, spraying sparks from its nose and snapped at his fingers. Hagrid didn't seem to notice, cooing at the little dragon. "Norbert," Hagrid said, every bit the proud mother. "His name's Norbert."

Harry stared at the Norwegian Ridgeback and cautiously let it sniff at his fingers. He stroked it gently, and Norbert seemed to relax under the attention he and Hagrid were showering it with. (Of course, then it got hungry and tried to bite at their hands.) He grinned. "I like him." A tiny flame curled from the dragon's mouth.

Ron just gave him a look. "You're bloody mad, mate."

* * *

Two weeks later, Norbert, despite Harry's somewhat-approval, was becoming a real problem. He barely fit in Hagrid's hut anymore, and had nearly burned it down twice. Hagrid stubbornly refused to set his 'baby' free.

"Hagrid," he said seriously. "Norbert can't stay here anymore." He idly rubbed one of the dragon's spines as it tore apart its third teddy-bear. Something about its flashing teeth bothered him, but he ignored it. "He's too big, and if someone discovers him…"

Hagrid sighed, eyes suddenly misty. "I know, but what can I do with him? He's too young ter live on his own."

Harry thought for a moment, glancing at Ron. "Didn't you say your brother worked with dragons? Couldn't he help us?"

Ron looked at Norbert. "I dunno, Harry. I don't want to get Charlie in trouble, and Norbert's getting a bit big to move."

Hermione huffed. "Well we have to do something, don't we?"

Harry bit his lip. "What about the Forest? Hagrid, you could still take care of him there, couldn't you?"

Hagrid nodded slowly, while Hermione shot him a glare. She obviously did not approve of Norbert's presence or his suggestion.

It would still be a huge risk, considering the Forest's proximity to Hogwarts, but it would have to do.

* * *

Quirrell was found singed a few days later, and with a startlingly swollen arm. Forced into Madame Pomfrey's care, he'd just muttered something about dogs and infections. Though he'd be fixed by later tonight, Harry didn't believe him. There was only one thing around here that could have given their defense professor such injuries, and he was supposedly tucked safely away in the Forbidden Forest. But what could Quirrell, a coward terrified of his own shadow, possibly be doing there? There was no logical reason, unless he was more than he seemed. Ron and Hermione seemed to agree, though they were still skeptical about the second voice.

Harry glowered, stabbing his steak and kidney pie with more force than was necessary. Were they just being deliberately obtuse?

Hedwig swooped in, causing several students to look curiously in his direction. Ignoring them, Harry untied the parchment from her leg and fed her a piece of steak. The short note was nearly illegible, and looked like it had been rained on.

_Norbert is gone._

_What_?! Harry rose from his seat, dashing out of the Great Hall as fast as he could (which was not all that fast – he was really out of shape). Hermione looked up in alarm, and Ron nearly choked on his dinner at Harry's abrupt departure.

* * *

"Hagrid! Hagrid, it's me, Harry!" He pounded on the door of the hut, nearly whacking Hagrid in the stomach when it was pulled open.

Harry stood there, gaping at Hagrid's disheveled appearance and red eyes. Suddenly, he didn't know what to say. He'd been prepared when he'd run down, with questions and comforts on his lips, but now he couldn't say a word. Hagrid had been crying.

And Harry had been the one to suggest leaving Norbert in the Forest.

Hagrid seemed to guess what he'd been thinking. "Someone k-k-killed him," he sputtered, letting out a loud howl.

"Hagrid…" he stopped. What to say? "I'm sorry." It didn't seem anywhere near adequate.

Hagrid pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, and Harry felt great teardrops fall on his head.

"Hagrid!" he squeaked, and had to pause to breathe as he was promptly let go.

"Weren't yer fault," Hagrid sniffled.

"…what happened?" Harry asked softly, once they were safely seated inside the hut.

"I went ter the Forest ter check on Norbert," he started, pausing only long enough to take a gulp of whiskey. "An' he was jus' lying there! Dead… not a mark on him. Only one curse that can do that…"

Harry stiffened. The killing curse. "Where?"

Hagrid shook his great head and took another swig. "Couple o' kilometers north o' here," he said, blearily eying the bottle. "Brought him back… gonna have his funeral tomorrow."

Harry gently patted his arm. "We'll be there."

He stayed for an hour or so, just long enough for Hagrid to stumble drunkenly into bed, before slipping out of the hut. Staring at the Forest, he made his decision, and walked northward.

* * *

The Forest, though it hadn't changed much since the night he had spied on Quirrell and Snape, seemed far more sinister than before. Harry clutched his wand tightly, not daring to light it and give away his presence. Despite the lack of light however, he could clearly make out the path Hagrid had taken.

Twenty minutes later he slowed to a stop, spotting what had been Norbert's nest, complete with the fourth teddy-bear. It had barely been touched, though the cheery face of the bear seemed oddly lifeless and gloomy. Harry knelt down and rubbed its soft fur gently. He'd have to take it back so it could be buried with the dragon. He smiled at the thought of Norbert tearing apart teddies in the afterlife.

A soft rustle had him whirling around, wand in hand. He sucked in a breath, wide-eyed and rigid. Was that…?

It was. A unicorn, barely an adult and still silvery in color, snorted and stamped a hoof in distress. Another rustle followed the animal, and it bolted.

Or tried to.

A flash of scarlet (always red, he was starting to hate the color) pierced through the darkness and struck the unicorn on its side. It let out a pained whinny and stumbled, then fell. Silvery blood pooled on the ground.

Harry gasped, pain flooding his senses. His scar felt like it was burning! He staggered slightly, hand pressed tightly to his forehead.

What seemed to be a wraith swam into view and caught sight of him. Pushing aside the fiery pain, Harry ducked, firing off the first offensive spell he could think of.

"_Incendio!"_

Flames erupted from his wand and the wraith shrieked, backing away from the light and heat. Harry barely dodged the retaliatory spell blasted in his direction.

"_Flippendo! Incendio!" _Harry dimly noted that he really needed to up his repertoire of offensive magic, though the two spells seemed to do the trick. The wraith fled. (1)

Harry shook slightly from the adrenaline and surprise. A soft, pained snort drew his attention to the unicorn, which was miraculously still alive. "Hey," he said softly. Healing spells… he didn't know any healing spells!

The animal snapped at his hand, trying to twist out of his reach before laying back down in exhaustion. Harry panicked. What could he do? It was going to die!

_A blonde woman smirked at him. "You might not be a medic-nin, but master this, kid, and it'll help you all your life. It's an A-rank, but I should hope that the pervert's prized student can handle it."_

"_Shosenjutsu!" _(2)

His hands flared with a soft light. Acting on instinct, he positioned his hands over the unicorn's bleeding side. All at once he both did and didn't know what he was doing, but whatever it was, it was working. The wound started to knit itself together, and he felt slightly dizzy for a moment. The sight of the unicorn's injury vanishing completely was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.

* * *

(1): Quirrellmort is currently weak. He ran into Norbert, and therefore hasn't fed from a unicorn in quite some time. He'd rather chase another one than get into a fight with a wizard.

(2): Mystical Healing Palm Technique. A-rank. Speeds up the body's healing process. Okay, first thing I wanna say here is that Ino (who is no medic-nin) knows this jutsu, therefore I feel perfectly justified in letting Minato, a prodigy, know it. I figure he had to have had great chakra control, considering he created the Rasengan. Next... yeah, an A-rank for Harry is a bit much. That's why he's out like a light. Chakra exhaustion. It is quite literally a miracle he didn't kill himself using this jutsu, though he doesn't know it. And NO, he doesn't know how he did it, and cannot replicate the technique (yet).

(3): Yes, I was trying to make a point with Norbert. Not all of the changes to the timeline will be good ones; Minato is still human, and he is not perfect, neither can he see the future. Sure, they didn't lose the points, but this time they lost Norbert.

Challenge #2

Summary: The newest member of Akatsuki can fight on par with any Kage, but can't remember anything, not even his own name. Those in Konoha, however, could never forget the man that saved them all from the Kyuubi. But Naruto never knew his father, and his father doesn't know him now. Can Naruto bring his father home, and help him find the lost pieces of his past?

A different take on the Minato-is-Akatsuki-dude storyline.

Rules: He's not evil. He's being manipulated because he can't remember. He cannot use techniques that identify him as _him_ right away. He doesn't remember any of his signature moves yet. Any pairing is acceptable.

Please let me know if you take up this challenge!


	4. The Cursed Existence

Disclaimer: Uh, for the previous chapters and this one and any and all for the duration of this fic... nothing you recognize belongs to me.

A/N: Oh, boy. This one was a pain. I just could not figure out how to end it, and then... BAM. Anyway, hope you like it, drop a review...

And I realize that this is totally pathetic of me, but did anyone like my pictures? Did anyone even look? I can't help it, I need feedback!_ Feeeeedbaaaack!!!_

* * *

Chapter Three – The Cursed Existence

* * *

When Harry woke, sunlight was filtering through the tall trees surrounding him. He shot up, only to collapse back to the rough ground as pain shot through his body. "Ugh…" He felt so _sore_, like he'd run a marathon yesterday. He slowly levered himself up and studied his surroundings. The unicorn was gone.

"Well," he muttered, "at least _someone's_ okay." He let himself fall back again. "I think I'm just gonna lay here for awhile…"

He stared at nothing for a few minutes, thinking back to the confrontation. His scar had never hurt that much before… and only ever around _Quirrell_. He brushed the thin lightning-bolt with his fingers. Was that… blood? He looked at his palm. Dried flecks of brownish blood crusted the surface. Had his scar been bleeding? He hadn't noticed the night before… or had it even been the night before? How long had he been unconscious?

A soft sound caught his attention, steadily growing louder. Hoof beats, he realized. _'By Merlin, what _now_?' _

It was the unicorn. Harry gaped up at it in astonishment for a moment before noticing that it wasn't alone. A centaur stood with it, hand outstretched. He blinked bemusedly before accepting the hand. The centaur easily pulled him to his feet.

The unicorn tossed its head once, seeming to nod at him, and vanished.

"I am Firenze," the centaur said. His eyes flicked to Harry's scar. "Harry Potter, you must return to the school. The Forest is not safe, especially not for you. Can you ride? It will be faster this way."

He eyed the centaur suspiciously for a moment before shrugging. If Firenze had wished to harm him he could have easily done so before now.

"I think I noticed," Harry murmured faintly. He glanced around, stooping to pick up the teddy from where it had fallen before clambering painfully onto the centaur's back. "Wait, why me, especially?"

"Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know the properties of unicorn blood?"

* * *

Firenze dropped him off when they reached the edge of the Forest. He staggered tiredly to Hagrid's hut, unwilling to make the trek to the school. "Hagrid?" he called, knocking.

He resolutely tried not to think about Voldemort, who was now clearly with Quirrell, and what his appearance meant for him.

"HARRY!"

He nearly collapsed under Hermione's weight as she tackled him with a fierce hug. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we were? What on earth have you been doing? And is that a _teddy bear_?"

"Hermione, calm down. I'm fine. I'll tell you what's happened later. And yes, this is Norbert's teddy."

"Well," she huffed, "if that's the case, you missed classes today. I've got your assignments for you."

Ron snorted from the doorway. "Lay off him for a minute, will you?"

She glowered. "I'll have you know-"

"Guys," Harry interrupted. "Where's Hagrid?"

Hermione's eyes softened. "He's outside," she answered. "You're just in time for the burial."

"Oh." Good. It really had been only a day, then. He trailed after his friends to find Hagrid once more in tears. Harry handed him the teddy.

"Here. I, uh, though Norbert would like to have it with him."

Hagrid loudly sniffled into his handkerchief. "T-thanks, Harry. I'm sure he'd be glad ter have it…"

The bear gently fell next to the dragon.

* * *

A little later, everyone was sitting in Hagrid's hut, unwilling to leave the sensitive giant alone. Hagrid, for his part, was regaling the trio with tales of Norbert. They all listened politely, despite having known the dragon quite well.

Then Hagrid got on the topic of how he'd gotten the egg in the first place.

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "_How_ did you say you'd gotten his egg?"

"Well I jus' told you. Stranger I met down in the pub."

Oh, no. "Hagrid… did you see what the stranger looked like?"

As it turned out, he hadn't. That in and of itself would have been fine, considering secretive people were common at the Hog's Head, but Hagrid had started talking about Fluffy. More importantly, he'd told a _stranger_ how to _get past_ Fluffy.

Harry was halfway to the door before he'd even realized he was out of his seat.

* * *

"Harry, wait!"

Harry slowed to a stop, pausing for a few moments to allow his friends to catch up.

"Blimey, mate, when did you get so fast?" (1)

"When did you get so slow?" he countered impatiently. "Hurry up, we have to stop Quirrell!" (2)

Hermione eyed him nervously. "We should get a teacher."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. He'd never liked depending on others, but she had a point. "Fine. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

Ron and Hermione traded a glance. "Er… we've never been there before."

He sucked in a breath. "Alright. We'll go to McGonagall, then."

* * *

The trio skidded into McGonagall's office with such speed that they nearly plowed right into her.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger! What on earth are you doing?" she gasped, hand over her heart. She seemed too surprised to bother with taking points.

"Professor," Hermione said, "someone's trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone!"

The hand hovering over her chest clenched into the fabric of her robes. "How on earth-"

"Please, Professor…"

"I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but be rest assured that it is _safe_. Now, you three head back to your dorm and don't speak another word of it."

"But, Professor!"

McGonagall frowned, but Harry interrupted. "Professor, we know for a fact that Qu- the perpetrator knows how to get past Fluffy."

She stared at him in astonishment. "We'll take this to the Headmaster, and you three will explain exactly how you came to possess such knowledge."

* * *

The walk to the Headmaster's office was painstakingly long. McGonagall kept shooting the trio glances, and Harry wasn't quite sure whether she believed them or not.

"Sugar Quills," she barked, staring down an ugly gargoyle. It leaped to the side, revealing a twisting staircase.

"Wait here," the Professor said, making her way up the staircase. "I'll be back shortly."

Two agonizing minutes later and she was once more in front of her students. "It seems," she said, "that Headmaster Dumbledore has been called to the Ministry on urgent business and will be unavailable for some time." Her lips thinned, and Harry could see a dawning understanding lighting her eyes. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower, you three."

"But, what will you do, Professor?"

"I? I shall be gathering the other teachers," she readied her wand.

"The person going to steal the Stone is Quirrell!" Harry blurted out in alarm. She couldn't alert the staff, that'd be the same as telling Voldemort!

Ron and Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "You're not still going on about that, are you?" Ron asked pointlessly.

Harry frowned.

"Preposterous! Mr. Potter, where are these wild accusations coming from?" McGonagall seemed to be at the end of her patience.

Harry hesitated. He couldn't exactly tell her about voices from nowhere and centaurs, now could he? "Please, Professor," he stared straight into her eyes, "trust me, just this once."

There was silence for almost a full minute before she flicked her wand, sending a glowing cat streaking down the corridor. Harry sucked in a breath. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I'm not sending for Professor Quirrell. Please, go back to your dorm."

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat in stiff, uncomfortable silence in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione was nervously flipping through the pages of a book while the redhead fiddled with a chess set.

"Why don't we get your Cloak, Harry?" Ron asked suddenly, knocking an indignant knight to the floor.

He shook his head. Logically, there was nothing they could do that the teachers weren't already. If they went down there, they'd not only have to deal with whatever traps besides Fluffy were there, they might get hit in the crossfire. Sometimes, it really was better to just wait, though that didn't mean he wanted to.

Ron scowled. "Why not?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Just be patient, Ronald!"

As his friends descended into irritated bickering, Harry watched the dying fire. A shape seemed to appear briefly in the flickering flames before vanishing just as suddenly. He blinked and carefully studied the fire. There! It happened again. The vibrant flames twisted into the vague shape of an animal…

An earth-shattering roar blasted through the common room and he jerked back, toppling both himself and his chair over. Ron and Hermione froze mid-insult and stared at him.

"Er, mate, you okay?" Had they not heard that?!

He was about to reply when a shriek sounded through his ears, and this time everyone in the common room started at the sound. A black, vaporous cloud tore through him, screaming in pure fury. (3)

For a brief moment that felt like an eternity, all Harry felt was blinding pain. Then the spirit had passed through, and he was left shaking on the ground. Vague voices reached his ears and he clutched at his head, absently noting that his scar must have bled again.

Awareness came abruptly and everyone in the common room was gathered around him, loudly asking what was wrong and would he be okay.

He waved his hand and they backed away, allowing him to stumble into the armchair someone had righted. The portrait slammed open, and everyone jumped.

It was Professor Flitwick, closely followed by Professor McGonagall. The transfiguration teacher's eyes flitted around the room before landing on Harry. "What happened?"

"Some black cloud thing came through here," a random Gryffindor (he thought it was Lavender) answered. "It went through the wall…"

"I see," she said, relaxing slightly. "And Mr. Potter?"

"Well, it went through him, too."

"I'm fine," he interjected shakily. Hermione glared at him. "Or I will be in a minute," he amended hastily. "What was that?"

McGonagall hesitated. "That, Mr. Potter, was Voldemort."

* * *

_**A/N**_: Okay, I realize that some people may be, er, upset at the lack of Harry action/confrontation. But that's not really the point. He's growing up, learning to accept his limitations, (blah blah blah, excuses) and there WILL BE ACTION IN THE FUTURE!!! I promise. There really can't be a ninja as awesome as Minato and be no action.

Aside from that, I'm totally having a blast mangling bits and pieces of the story.

(1): This isn't just a sudden development, it's been happening since he first started dreaming. He just hasn't noticed 'cause it's him. It's like noticing that you're growing an inch. Aside from that, he's always been faster and fitter than his friends (running from Dudley's gang and doing work for the Dursleys had to have _some_ benefit). BUT, this doesn't mean he doesn't have to exercise or anything. Oh, no. He's going to have to work _hard_ to get back to the point he was at before.

(2): Minato was the Yondaime. Of course his first instinct is to deal with threats himself. Though Minato has learned to temper this reaction, Harry has not.

(3): I'm sure everyone knows that was Voldemort's shade. Now, why did he bother to seek Harry out? He's mad, wants a target (and we all know how much he loves to torment his downfall) and (though he doesn't know it) his soul was attracted to the other piece residing in Harry.

Challenge #3

Bleach crossover. Minato, a shinigami, finds his way to Konoha to briefly see his son (without a gigai!). When he gets there however, Naruto can see him due to his unreasonably high spiritual power, and he no longer has the heart to leave. He starts training Naruto, but eventually Hollows start appearing in the elemental countries.

Rules: Reiatsu - spiritual power (what makes up half of chakra) - same thing. This means that it is entirely possible that powerful shinobi (like the Sannin and the Hokage... the Akatsuki, other Jinchuriki) can see Minato. Don't care what time-frame for either series. Konoha can be either a separate dimension or a hidden continent in the Pacific, doesn't matter. Must be Considered: Does he have permission or is he breaking the law by leaving Soul Society? (Personally, I think the second options sounds _way_ more fun.)


	5. Beings of Shadow

A/N: Chapter Four! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you like it!\

Someone wrote this in an anonymous review... "Ninja are like an order of magnitude power than canon wizards in harry potter." Um, _what?_ Okay, I regularly read college level literature. What's more, I understand it. If I can't understand what you're saying, you're either A) really confused B) forgetting one or three important words or C) speaking a foreign language. Please, I cannot respond coherently without understanding what you're saying. _Use proper sentence structure. _

Besides, I plan on making wizards and ninja at least somewhat equal... if that's what you mean. As for the rest of your review... don't assume. What _I _do in _my_ story is _my_ prerogative.

* * *

Chapter Four – Beings of Shadow

* * *

Harry closed his copy of _Facets of the Mind and its Magicks_ as he relaxed on his bed at Privet Drive. He had been stressed recently (he briefly thought back to the fiasco in the common room after McGonagall's announcement) and welcomed the peace that meditation brought.

Right now, he needed to be calm. He was irritated at his friends' silence over the summer, and his uncle was having a meeting downstairs. If he messed it up in any way…

Harry settled more comfortably on the bed, relaxing his breathing and partially closing his eyes. Slowly he felt awareness slip away.

His eyes snapped open. Had he fallen asleep? Glancing around, he realized that wasn't the case. He'd finally gotten to the next step in Occlumency. He was inside his mind.

Harry gaped as he made his way through the representation of his mind. Twisting corridors glowed with faint torchlight, the flickering light chasing shadows away at irregular intervals. There was no ceiling; only the gray, overcast sky above him. Dark clouds swirled together in an uneven line, somehow becoming white where they merged.

Looking more closely, he realized that his entire mind was that way; seemingly split into haphazard halves.

Reserving that line of thought for later, Harry focused on the next step in _Facets of the Mind and its Magicks. _He needed to build shields. The book had stated that there should already be some rudimentary ones, depending on his proficiency at clearing his mind (which he should be quite good at, considering where he was at the moment). After he found them, he needed to build and strengthen them with magic.

He glanced around, trying to find something that might represent a shield, when a soft shine caught his eye. Shrugging, he made his way toward it, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw what it was.

The Mirror of Erised.

It stood almost precariously over a crack in the stone floor, and Harry carefully made his way to it.

The scene in this Mirror was almost identical to the first, but this time he could see himself standing off to the side, and the blond was looking at him instead of the child. The image in the Mirror smiled, walked forward…

…and stepped through.

Harry stared as the man walked out of the Mirror, pausing only to beckon at him before stepping over the crack in the ground. He followed the man through a labyrinth of corridors, though the blond never seemed to lose his way. Doors of every shape and size lined the walls. Harry stopped at a particularly appealing one, white and warm and inviting.

The man stopped too, watching him silently. Before Harry could open the door however, he spoke for the first time.

"You wouldn't read a book by starting in the middle, would you?" His voice was rich and laced with amusement.

Harry started. "You talk?!" he squawked, flushing red when the man laughed.

"Of course I do! You just couldn't hear me before."

"Then tell me who you are."

"You already know the answer to that, Harry," he replied, walking away. Harry had to jog slightly to keep up.

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking."

The blond didn't answer for some time, seemingly content to wander through the corridors. Finally he stopped at a door, round and with a tree carved on it. Pink petals clustered on the branches and twirled gracefully to the floor.

"The _sakura_, the cherry tree, is a symbol of many things," the man started, fingers resting on the handle. "Awakenings, death…"

He twisted the knob. "…and rebirth." The door swung open, light filtering out. Harry couldn't see what was inside. "With every door opened, things will be clearer."

The wizard was struck with a sudden, inexplicable fear. "What happens after? Is it safe?"

The man smiled, "It's your mind. Everything in here is already a part of you."

With that non-answer, the blond shoved him through the doorway.

* * *

_He could vaguely make out a blonde woman looking down at him. Fuzzy brown eyes seemed to smile from a blurry face. "Happy Birthday!" Even the voice was indistinct, though it somehow reminded him of a dove. Peaceful and graceful even through the excitement of the statement._

"_Three already!" she cooed. "Such a big boy now, aren't you?"_

_A toddler laughed, and it took Harry a moment to realize that the sound was coming from him. At the same moment, he discovered that he no longer felt confused. Just happy. _

"_Where's daddy?" The high-pitched child's voice once more came from him. Now he felt… upset. The blonde (the child's mother?) suddenly seemed a little sad._

"_He's not home yet, sweetheart. He'll be here soon."_

"_He promised."_

"_I know." _(1)

* * *

All of a sudden he was back in the corridor and staring into bright blue eyes. "How was it?"

Harry stared. "What just happened?"

"You were inside a memory."

"Okay, but what did it have to do with anything?" he paused, glancing at the unique, almost yellow shade of the man's hair. It matched the woman's perfectly. "Wait, are they _your_ memories?" He gestured to the rows of unopened doors.

"No. They're yours."

"But-"

"Like I said before, everything in here is a part of you. That includes me. I don't exist outside of your mind."

"Then, the Mirror…?"

"The Mirror is a representation of two halves, of a reflection of your past and who you are now, and it stands on the dividing line that splits them into two." He hesitated briefly, "Now, I have one more thing to show you. Can you find your way back here later?"

"Yeah."

"Good," the blond said, and started off in a seemingly random direction. Harry trailed behind, still somewhat confused.

"Earlier, when you stopped me from going through the white door, you told me that it would be like starting in the middle of a book."

"It's safer and easier to understand." The blond replied, answering his unasked question. "How much do you remember about healing that unicorn?"

"I remember doing something weird with my hands…"

"_Shosenjutsu. _You were lucky. Your subconscious knew what you were doing, even if you didn't consciously. Still, you nearly killed yourself _and_ the unicorn. You can't risk trying something like that again. Start from the beginning. It will come to you in time," he smiled. "Most likely even faster this time around, actually. You already know what to do. It's simply a matter of remembering how."

They rest of the walk was silent after that. It wasn't long before they reached a stone door, obsidian with a serpent carved into the dark surface. Cloudy rubies served as the snake's eyes and cold seemed to seep through the stone.

Beside him, the blond murmured "Open." There was something odd about the sound of the word, but Harry ignored it, prepared to be sucked into another memory.

The serpent twisted, stretching its jaws open and revealing the handle. Without hesitation, the man stuck his hand into its mouth and turned the knob.

Unlike the previous door, no light shone through. Shadows crept along the edges of the otherwise empty room. They both stepped inside. Nothing happened.

Harry turned to ask his companion what was going on, but the blond shook his head. "Don't turn around," he said, a hard edge to his tone.

The wizard looked back just in time to catch a familiar black mass separating itself from the rest of the shadows. It flowed toward them with a hiss, and Harry would have backed away if not for the man's steady hand on his shoulder.

The mass pulled inward, shaping itself and solidifying. A few seconds later, a dark-haired man stood in front of them. He was pale and handsome and utterly cold. "Harry Potter," he hissed.

Harry realized then why the shadow had been familiar. "Voldemort…"

The blond seemed to decide then that it was time to go. He pulled the young wizard out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The serpent retracted, its mouth closing over the handle. An angry shout sounded from inside and the cold seeping from the room intensified.

Harry swallowed. "He's a part of me too?" he whispered.

"In a way, yes, though not in the way your thinking. That… spirit… is the only exception to what I told you earlier. That is quite literally a piece of him, trapped in here. Not necessarily a part of you."

"Can we get rid of him?"

"Can you, you mean? I've tried, but I've been unable to purge him from your mind. It will take something rather drastic to remove him."

Harry nodded.

"Hey, calm down or you're not going to be able to stay. You're still meditating, you know."

He nodded again, not really listening.

The blond sighed. "Come back again when you want to see more. The section I showed you contains your earliest memories, so you'll want to head back there. I'll be around if you need me."

His surroundings dissolved, and he was back in the smallest bedroom of #4 Privet Drive.

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry's head whipped around. What the hell…?

"Such an honor to finally meet you, sir!"

What? The sounds of forced laughter filtered into his room, and he realized that the meeting was still going on. How much time had passed?

"Shush!" he hissed at the… thing. Whatever it was, it was too loud. If his Uncle heard… "What are you doing here?"

"I am Dobby, sir. Dobby the house elf. Dobby has come to warn sir. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts this year!"

"_What?!"_

"There is a plot, sir, to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not put himself in danger! Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"But I have to go back," he blurted. "My friends are there!"

"Friends who don't even _write_ to Harry Potter?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he glared at Dobby. "And how," he hissed, whisper soft, "do you know about that?"

Dobby squeaked in terror and shivered in his pillowcase. "D-d-don't be upset at Dobby! D-Dobby did it for Harry Potter's own good!"

Harry took a deep breath. _'Calm down. Inner focus…' _"Give me my letters, Dobby."

Dobby had stopped shivering. He shook his head, ears flapping furiously. "Dobby will give sir his letters once sir promises not to go back to Hogwarts!"

"Then I can wait. I'll just ask my friends what they wrote." He knew it wouldn't work. The house elf was far too desperate.

Dobby looked upset. "But sir-"

Harry decided to try something else. "You would trade my happiness for safety?"

Dobby went silent.

"That's the same as letting the threat win. Being unhappy… that's not living, Dobby."

"It's only temporary, sir. Harry Potter must stay here until the danger is gone!"

"Why here, specifically?"

"There are powerful wards here, sir. Harry Potter will be safe in these." Wards? Harry didn't know anything about them, though he supposed Dumbledore probably put them up when he left him here.

He sighed. "Listen, I won't go back to Hogwarts, okay?" _'Until summer's over, anyway.' _He felt a little bad about lying to the elf, but Hogwarts was important to him. Nothing was going to keep him away, not even this threat, _if_ it was genuine. (2)

Dobby relaxed. "Thank-you, Harry Potter, sir!" He handed him the letters and disappeared with a pop.

Harry winced, feeling even worse after hearing the sheer gratitude in the little elf's voice. But, what if Dobby had been trying to trick him? Say, if he'd been sent here to tell him there was a threat as some kind of prank. He _could_ be a good actor. It wouldn't matter so much that he'd lied then...

He grimaced, realizing that was exactly the kind of justification he didn't need.

* * *

(1): His first memory, at three. (I checked, apparently children start remembering stuff at that age. That's what I recall from personal experience, too.) Everything's indistinct because he's young enough at the moment that he's not going to remember things clearly.

(2): It's not that he's going to start lying whenever it's convenient or anything, but he _is_ (or was) a shinobi. He's starting to realize the value of deception, and he could tell how desperate Dobby was. No matter what he said, he wasn't going to leave Harry alone until he agreed. Of course, this opens a whole new can of worms. Harry's morals now, versus a shinobi's morals...


	6. A Not So White Canvas

A/N: Enjoy!!

* * *

Chapter Five - A Not So White Canvas

* * *

"Thanks for picking me up," Harry said, swinging the door of Mr. Weasley's car shut.

"Not a problem, Harry," he replied. "Thank- _you_ for answering all my questions."

Harry laughed a little awkwardly. Mr. Weasley, though kind-hearted and cheery, could be absolutely aggravating in his pursuit of knowledge of "muggle artifacts."

Ron climbed out of the back seat. "Welcome to the Burrow!"

He smiled. "Thanks, Ron." He was glad to have been invited (though not so glad to have missed no less than six invitations… he could have been out of Privet Drive ages ago!).

It had been a few days since his confrontation with the (as Ron called Dobby) deranged house elf. Hedwig had been glad for the chance to spread her wings as she carried multiple replies to both of his friends for the first time that summer.

The three males trooped into the Burrow, dragging along Harry's belongings and stowing them in Ron's room. All the while Harry glanced at his surroundings, half-amazed that the building didn't crash down around them.

Afterward, Ron and the twins showed him de-gnoming, which was an interesting experience (and, admittedly, a little cathartic; throwing gnomes around was good for working off excess irritation) and went flying. The activities and Mrs. Weasley's fantastic supper left all four boys rather drained, and they turned in early, Harry stopping only to meditate.

He hadn't been back to his mind since the incident a few nights ago. He didn't like to admit it, but Voldemort's shade had disturbed him enough that he hadn't wantedto go back. Now though, surrounded by friends and cheerful from the fun day, he was ready to try again. Half-closing his eyes, he tuned out Ron's snoring and drew himself into his mind.

The landscape was the same as he remembered it to be, though the blond was nowhere in sight. Assuming that he had gone back into the mirror, Harry wandered around looking for the fragile shields he should have strengthened last time. After a few minutes (though he wasn't sure how that translated into real time) he noticed something odd about the walls.

Tiny crystals were embedded in the stone, forming loops and swirls that glittered faintly in the firelight. Curiously he touched one of the spirals with his wand. Sparks flew from the tip and were absorbed by the crystals.

"Yes, those are the shields."

Harry jumped and whirled around, fist swinging wildly at the sound which had come from _right next to his ear_. The blond waved at him cheerfully from several feet away.

While he was still trying to calm his racing heart, the blond continued. "A bit more subtle than you thought, isn't it? They'll repel intruders as well as any physical shield. Better, actually, once you put more magic in them."

Harry nodded, placing his wand against the spiral again. He cast the spell listed in _Facets. _It was simple; just a release of pure magic and only used to recharge enchanted items. It was useless for anything else, as the magic would dissipate harmlessly without any directive.

"_Castitas._" Soft white light flew from the wand and into the crystals. They started to glow softly, releasing their own light. Glancing around, he realized that it was only the crystals in the spiral he had touched. Did he have to charge each one individually?! There could be thousands!

Resignedly he walked to the next swirl, pausing when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You've got more than just that to do in here, remember? There are more seals by the doors. If you start there, you can view memories and charge the crystals at the same time, and that way you won't miss any, either." He grinned. "No starting in the middle."

"Seals?"

The blond nodded. "Yes. You'll learn what those are soon enough," he said, looking at Harry slightly reproachfully. "The more of those memories you go through, the faster you will learn everything," he chided gently.

Harry had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah, I…"

"You don't have to explain to me; I already know. Don't worry about it. You'll be okay on your own?"

Harry nodded, and the blond left to… wherever it was he went when he wasn't talking with Harry. Deciding to follow his advice, the wizard started his way through the labyrinthine corridors until he found the one the blond had taken him to the other day. After he charged the crystals around the first door, he stepped through the second. (1)

* * *

_It was a few months after his birthday. The blonde woman was curled in her chair, clutching a letter and crying. _

"_Mommy?" the child, he, asked._

"_Oh, Minato… D-daddy's not coming home anymore."_

"_Why not?"_

_She burst into tears, and he decided he was fine without an answer. For now, at least._

_

* * *

_

The door closed, leaving Harry with a lingering curiosity and sadness. Minato… he had a name to go on now, at least. Quickly he charged a few more seals and opened the next door.

* * *

"_We're going to Konoha," his mother told him plainly as they packed their bags._

"_Konoha?"_

_She nodded. "Things will be better there," she replied vaguely. She paused, about to put a photograph in her bag. Some emotion gleamed in her eyes for a second before she threw it aside._

_He looked at it. It was a picture of the two of them with a tall man standing next to them that he assumed was his (the child's, Minato's, some part of his mind insisted) father. He had brown hair and eyes. The child didn't think he looked very much like him, but he didn't care too much. His dad was his dad, right? He slipped the photo into his pocket, unnoticed._

_

* * *

_

_A dirty group stood before the travelers, ugly grins twisting their faces._

"_Run," his mother whispered. "Run north and don't stop. Keep going until you reach Konoha, okay?"_

_He nodded, terrified. One of the men said something but he didn't listen._

"_Go now, as fast as you can. Don't look back." She started shouting at the bandits._

_He ran through the commotion, leaving his bag behind as it would slow him down. Someone screamed behind him, but he didn't look back._

* * *

_He didn't know how long he'd been running by the time they found him. He was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. It had been days since they were attacked, and he had gone on for as long as he could each day (admittedly not a huge distance, but he was only four)._

_A patrol; three of the shinobi guarding the city picked him up as he told his story. Spiral leaves decorated their headbands._

_He'd done it. He'd reached Konoha._

_Now what?_

* * *

Harry stared at the sixth door. He was exhausted. Not only from strengthening his shields, but from the lingering tiredness from that last memory.

He'd have to continue later. He left his mindscape, realizing it had only been a couple of minutes since he'd gone in. At least he'd still get a good night's sleep, he thought, and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Harry, wake up!"

He blearily opened his eyes and looked up at the red blur swaying in his vision. He blinked and slipped on his glasses. "Whazzit?"

Fred Weasley grinned at him. Harry almost asked where his other half was when he caught sight of George bouncing on Ron's bed. Oh.

"We're going to Diagon Alley-" Fred started.

"-to get supplies for school." George finished, having sufficiently bothered his brother awake.

"Mum's got your letters-"

"-downstairs. She wants us all-"

"-through the floo by ten."

"What time is it?" Harry asked. It was far too early for twin-speak.

"Nine fifty-three." They replied together, cackling as they left the room.

"What?! You twits, why didn't you get us up earlier?!" Ron shouted at their retreating backs.

"What would be-"

"-the fun in that?"

Ron moaned, rolling out of bed. "No time for breakfast," he grumbled, searching the floor for socks. His stomach growled in sympathy.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look at the clock."

He did. It was eight thirty.

"I am going to _throttle_ those two!"

* * *

Harry stumbled out of the floo coughing and covered in soot. The twins laughed at him, completely immaculate. Ron walked out behind him, equally clean. He nearly choked on his laughter. "What'd you do, jump in the contents of every fireplace on the way?"

Harry opened his mouth to deliver a stinging retort and coughed, expelling a cloud of ash.

"No," Fred guffawed, "he _swallowed_ it!"

George elbowed him. "Like the snitch! You know, Harry, it really can't be healthy to stick that much stuff in your mouth. You never know where it's been…"

He flushed scarlet.

"Now boys," Mr. Weasley said, having stepped through while they were teasing him, "don't be so rude."

Harry relaxed slightly.

"Offer alternatives," he handed Harry a sucker, sending the boys into a new round of guffaws.

Mrs. Weasley stepped through the grate with Ginny following after.

"Arthur, don't encourage them!" She brushed some of the soot off of Harry's shoulders. "Don't mind them, Harry dear. Now eat your lollipop and let's go," she said, turning to the back of the Leaky Cauldron and the hidden archway.

Harry trailed after the red-heads in bewilderment, candy in hand.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, they squeezed in with the rest of the crowd at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione (who they'd met up with at Gringotts) was practically squealing in excitement.

Harry honestly didn't see what was so impressive with Lockhart. Then the author caught sight of him and flashed his pearly whites at the assembled witches and wizards. The cameraman was sent back and Harry couldn't worm his way through the crowd quite fast enough to dodge. Disgruntled at being manhandled next to Lockhart and less than pleased at all the attention, his opinion of the blond wizard dropped to zero.

Then the fop dumped books into his arms and told everyone that he was going to be their next Defense teacher.

When Harry finally managed to slip away from the sparkling wizard he was in a foul mood. Locating Ginny at the edge of the crowd he made his way to her and dumped his new books into her cauldron. "You can have these," he said, "though they've been infected by that idiot, so you might have to clean them before you read anything."

Ginny giggled, blushing prettily.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" And suddenly Malfoy was there, a sneer on his pointy face. "Famous Harry Potter; can't even walk into a bookshop without making the front page."

Ginny glared at him. "Leave him alone! You're just jealous!" Harry stared at her in astonishment and nearly flinched. He was suddenly reminded of someone… though her eyes were green.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?"

She flushed. Ron elbowed his way through with Hermione. "What're you doing here, Malfoy?"

Predictably, the pale Slytherin couldn't resist the temptation to insult Ron and nearly caused a fist fight in the middle of the store. Unfortunately, both his father and Mr. Weasley arrived soon after and the argument only escalated.

The elder Malfoy fingered Ginny's copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. _"What's the use of being a disgrace to wizard kind if you're not even paid for it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "How unbecoming of you, Mr. Malfoy, talking like that in public. Why, one would almost think you'd been raised in a barn." It wasn't his normal style, to insult people this way, but he was pleased when the elder Malfoy stiffened.

"Not unlike yourself, Mr. Potter?" he asked silkily, eyeing Hermione's parents with disdain.

'_Well, the Dursleys _are_ pigs…' _Harry shook himself from that line of thought.

"_Muggles_. Such _disgusting_ animals," Malfoy Sr. murmured.

He was suddenly no longer thinking about the Dursleys, but a blonde muggle whose name he would never remember.

"Don't you _dare_ insult my family," he hissed. His friends glanced at him in surprise; having heard all his complaints about his relatives.

"Your parents… Such a sad way to die," The superior smirk the elder Malfoy shot him erased any self control Harry might have possessed, and he launched himself at the pureblood.

* * *

(1): What he's doing right now is protecting specific memories, though he doesn't actually know that. All of the seals together make up the whole shield, which means he is still strengthening his defenses as a whole, but by charging groups around the doors, that door's memory is going to be protected better. It's like how, in others' representations of Harry's mind, they have the shield (a room), the memories floating around inside the shield (like belongings scattered around the room), and then the really secure ones (the ones locked in trunks). The doors by the charged seals are what's locked in the trunks, while the ones by uncharged seals are like the scattered things. They're all protected behind the main shield, just some more than others.

Did Minato know that when he told Harry to charge the seals by his memories first? Yep. It would be bad if others figured out that Harry has more than one lifetime of memories, and he knows that.


	7. Ignition

A/N: Sorry! For whatever reason, the second half of this chapter really threw me for a loop... therefore it's a bit shorter... like by an entire page...

And I'm sorry for the late update! I would have gotten this out earlier, but I forgot and then had no access to a computer, sorry!

If there is enough noise about the erm... lack of Malfoy-beating-upage then I might write a one-shot about it.

IMPORTANT: This chapter has been EDITED to fit more correctly withing cannon (as per chapter 503). This means that there is an added memory sequence, with TINY (and I really do mean it) SPOILERS. If you don't wish to read it, it is the THIRD MEMORY SEQUENCE and is Minato's first memory of Kushina. It is not, however, very important overall as long as you realize that from this point forward, Harry somewhat knows who she is, though _her _importance is not yet realized.

* * *

Chapter Six – Ignition

* * *

"You deserve that black eye, you know."

Harry shot Minato a dirty look. Heh, at least he'd managed to kick Malfoy Sr. in the crotch before getting that bruise.

"Self control is one of the most important aspects of being a shinobi."

"But I'm not-"

Minato just gave him a look and he shut up. "Don't ever place yourself in a fight you can't handle. Your interference probably caused more damage than Mr. Weasley would have. What happened today has most likely damaged your reputation quite a bit, as well."

His eyes flashed. "I don't care about my reputation!"

"You should."

Harry opened his mouth to respond but the blond interrupted. "Think about it. You know how uncomfortable you are when everybody at Hogwarts adores you? What about when they dislike you? How will you feel then? Aside from that, things tend to go much more smoothly when you have a good reputation. People listen to you."

The wizard narrowed his eyes, not liking the implications of that at all. "You mean it's easier to manipulate people."

"…Not necessarily. Remember 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf?'

Harry growled.

"Calm down, Harry, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about anyway."

He took a deep breath and sat down on the uneven stone. "What is it, then? I was going to charge more seals…"

Minato hesitated. "I think," he said carefully, "that it would be best to avoid Ginny for a while."

Harry blinked. "What?" That had not been what he expected to hear at all. "Why?"

"She looks a lot like… well, seeing her has been causing some interesting emotions hasn't it? You keep being reminded of someone else."

"The woman in the Mirror," he replied promptly.

Minato winced. "Yes, her. Harry, you're not anywhere near ready for those memories. Not yet."

"Why not?"

The blond turned a rather interesting shade of red. "…Lots of reasons. Just trust me on this one, alright?"

"Okay…?"

Minato looked relieved.

* * *

_"I want to join the Academy," he said without a trace of doubt in his voice. 'I want to be strong…'_

_His civilian teacher gave the five-year-old a bland look. It was not an uncommon request. After all, every child in regular school got to choose whether or not to go to the Academy. "Alright, Namikaze. Your birthday's January 25th, right? I'll have you transferred the following term…"_

_

* * *

_

_"Namikaze-kun?"_

_"Yes, sensei?"_

_"You seem bored in class. Is the material not challenging enough for you?"_

_He blushed faintly. He had hoped his teacher hadn't noticed his attention drifting, but apparently she had. "Not really."_

_"Okay. I'll see what I can do. For now, here are a few options you can consider…"_

_

* * *

_

"_I'm Uzumaki Kushina, and I'm going to be the first female Hokage!"_

_He eyed the new girl oddly for a moment then shrugged. It was his turn for introductions soon enough._

"_My name is Namikaze Minato, and I want to be a great Hokage that everyone in the village will respect."_

_The red-head snorted loudly._

_

* * *

_

_"Congratulations, graduates! From today on you will be considered adults in the eyes of the law; full fledged shinobi of Konoha."_

_The teacher paused, but every student was quiet and attentive._

_"I expect all of you to treat this privilege with responsibility, and serve all of Konoha to the best of your capabilities."_

_He straightened slightly in his seat and resisted the urge to fiddle with his hitai-ate, not quite used to the feel of it yet. He was a shinobi! He almost couldn't believe it._

_"Come prepared for team assignments tomorrow, class, and good luck to you all."_

_

* * *

_

The rest of summer passed quickly and quietly (or as quietly as things at the Burrow could get) and soon enough, it was time to go to Hogwarts.

Harry perched on his trunk, watching in amusement as Ron ran around in an attempt to throw all of his things together. Books, clothes, and stationary were piled haphazardly in the red-heads' trunk, and he knew that it would take his friend weeks to sort it all out.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, "Where's my Cannon's book?"

"Didn't you leave it in the family room?"

He dashed through the door and the pounding of his feet could be heard all the way down the stairs. He barely made it back before Mrs. Weasley was shouting at them to get in the car. Good thing, too, Harry thought, glancing at the clock. They'd be cutting it pretty close as it was.

"Need some help with that?" Percy asked, gesturing at his trunk. Predictably, he was already packed and ready, and had moved his own belongings to the car.

"No, thank-you." Unlike last year, where he'd barely been able to lift it, his trunk felt a lot lighter. He'd started his own physical conditioning (which had actually started shortly before the incident with the unicorn), which probably made it easier. Of course, he'd also recently added the Academy's regimen into his schedule, which was designed to quickly and efficiently enhance muscle mass and tone. Thankfully, there was plenty of space outside the Burrow to complete his exercises unnoticed, or he wouldn't have been able to practice the most interesting aspect of those memories: jutsu.

The three basic jutsu that the Academy taught were all interesting, though not particularly challenging. They were, however, draining. It really hit home exactly how far behind he was (he was two years younger than he was now when he'd mastered these the first time around) and he resolved to practice as much as he could. Therefore much of his time was spent outdoors improving both his physical capabilities and his chakra reserves. Ron did wonder where he spent all his time, but seemed more interested in lazing around than attempting investigative work on his best friend.

Breaking out of his musings, Harry slipped his trunk into the boot of the Ford Anglia and hopped into the surprisingly roomy car. He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts.

* * *

True to his prediction, they arrived at the barrier with only five minutes to spare. Fred, George, Percy, and Ginny all sped through, with their parents close behind. Gripping their trolleys, Harry and Ron charged at the barrier.

…and flew backward. Hedwig shrieked as her cage rolled along the ground, having toppled off his upended trunk. Harry groaned dizzily from his position on the floor. That had hurt! It was almost as if an electric shock had passed through him. That magic had felt angry.

Ron seemed to be of a similar mindset (or would have been had he known what electricity was). "Bloody hell! What was that?" he moaned.

Harry (after King's Cross stopped spinning) hurriedly righted Hedwig, who gave an indignant hoot and refused to look at him.

"I don't know," though he certainly had a suspicion. The barrier should have still been open. There was only one person (or house elf, whatever) that was that desperate to keep him out of Hogwarts.

Ron turned to him as the attention the commotion had attracted started to die away. "What're we going to do now? The train's gone!"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "we could wait for your parents to get back. Or we could send off a letter." He glanced at Hedwig, and she turned her tail at him. "Um, let's just wait for your parents." He dragged his trunk out of the way and used it as a bench.

Ron sighed and copied him

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to come back through. Harry dug a book out of his trunk and flipped through it, half-tempted to start meditating. Ron idly picked at the hems of his shirt.

Suddenly, he leaped off of his trunk. "I know! We can take the car!"

Harry blinked. "You want to drive to Hogwarts?"

"Of course not. We're going to fly."

"The car?"

"Did no one ever tell you? Dad enchanted it to fly. Installed an invisibility booster and everything."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" he turned a page in his book. "Just be patient; they'll be back eventually."

Ron frowned. "Harry…"

Two red-heads burst through the barrier at that moment. "Ron, Harry! There you are. Why didn't you come through?"

"Sorry, mum. The barrier was blocked."

"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked, surprised. "That's strange. I was sure we had enough time..."

Mrs. Weasley huffed. "Well, if everybody had gotten ready on time this morning, it wouldn't have been an issue! Missed the train! I don't believe it! I don't think anyone's missed the train in decades."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Come on, boys. Back to the Burrow. I'll floo the Headmaster."

Thankfully the Headmaster allowed them to floo to the school, which was eerily empty when the duo arrived. None of the other students had gotten there yet; they were all still on the train. Harry absently wondered why they even took it when using the floo was so much easier (albeit messier… he was again reduced to coughing up copious amounts of soot).

The few hours between their arrival and the sorting passed in uncomfortable silence. Ron was steadfastly ignoring Harry, who wondered what on earth he could have done to irritate his friend so much. Fortunately the red-head seemed to be in a better mood by the time the feast rolled around, though Harry wasn't sure that he'd gotten less upset so much as been excited by the arrival of the food.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione sat across from them, having spotted them shortly before the sorting. "Where were you two? I didn't see either of you on the train."

"We got caught up at the station," Harry replied. "The barrier was closed."

"Yeah," Ron grunted through a mouthful of potato. "At least five minutes early, mind you." He frowned. "Didn't think it be so violent, though. I mean, even muggles would notice something like that."

"What do you mean? The barrier is fairly passive magic," Hermione said. "Its only function is to hide the Express. The most it does is solidify the barrier, and only when in contact with a muggle."

"Well…" Harry briefly explained the painful shock. "I think I know who did it, too," he confessed.

"What?" Ron scowled. "You didn't tell me that!"

He shrugged. "Sorry? It's not anything concrete… just a suspicion."

The red-head, far from looking pacified, didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

* * *

A/N: Someone told me in a review to leave out my footnote markers. Um? I'm not sure how well that'll work out, but I can try...


	8. On Your Mark

A/N: I'm so incredibly sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Writers' Block aside, my computer caught a virus and I couldn't get on the internet for a couple of weeks. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter after having to wait so long for it!

* * *

Chapter Seven – On Your Mark

* * *

_-- the great Jiraiya! So squirts, why don't you introduce yourselves? Blondie, let's start with you."_

_He eyed the white haired shinobi incredulously. Someone this… flamboyant… couldn't possibly be the great toad-sennin, could he? He glanced at his teammates. They seemed just as perturbed as he was._

"_I'm Namikaze Minato…_

_

* * *

_

"_All you three have to do is get these bells. If you don't, it's back to the Academy for you!"_

"_But sensei! There's only two bells…"_

"_So? That just means that one of you definitely fails, kid. And no, it's not fair. Get used to it; not all of your missions are going to be fair, either."_

* * *

_A confident smile stretched across his face. "Teamwork, right, sensei? Not all of your missions are going to be with people you know or like, and three genin stand a far better chance of beating a jonin than one."_

_Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Got it in one, kid. Tell me why I tested you like that and I'll treat the team to lunch." The team… They hadn't failed!_

"_To see if we could set aside our personal goals for the sake of the mission?"_

"_And?"_

"_Uh, to see underneath the underneath?"_

"_And?"_

"_And… I don't know."_

"_To test your combat abilities. Those other answers were right too, Namikaze, but you have to realize that sometimes the obvious answer is the right one. Don't dismiss any, even the simple ones, out of hand."_

_He nodded, marveling at how easily his new sensei had tacked on that extra lesson. "Yes, sensei."_

"_Good. Now, where are you taking us for lunch? I know this great place a few blocks down…"_

"_What?" _

"_Hmmm? You didn't tell me all the answers! Your treat, not mine."_

"_But you didn't say…"_

_Jiraiya snorted. "So? You should just be thankful I'm still going to teach you three. You didn't even get the bells!"_

"…"

* * *

Harry watched in morbid fascination as the blond fop's teeth flashed and sparkled. Lockhart looked eerily out of place in the cool stone of Hogwart's Defense classroom, though it wasn't really surprising. The school felt (and looked, sometimes) old, rugged, and well-loved. Lockhart… well, Lockhart felt _fake_. Everything from his shoes to his hair was so groomed to perfection that Harry was honestly reminded of those old Barbie dolls the neighbors' kids used to play with.

In any case, the man really had no business teaching a bunch of pre-teens. The class so far was a joke. Lockhart's secret ambition? Favorite color? There was zero relevance to anything even remotely useful. Even worse though, was that Hermione seemed to take everything Lockhart said very seriously.

Harry himself was not. He was more than happy to practice hand seals under his desk while the author droned on about his various exploits and awards. He was getting faster, but it irked him to know that he was still slower than his 'counterpart.'

'_I was ten when I graduated from the Academy,' _he thought, hands shifting from _tora _to_ inu_ to_ saru _far too slowly for his tastes_. 'This is ridiculous. I need to catch up.'_

He managed to ignore Lockhart for about ten minutes while the man praised Hermione for remembering all the little inconsequential details from his books. Then, finally, the author stopped his lecture on the importance of said details, and brought out a covered bird cage. Tiny shrieks and squeals could be heard from inside. Harry couldn't resist dragging his attention back to the front of the room out of curiosity.

"It is my job to teach you how to defend yourself against the most dangerous creatures known to wizard-kind," Lockhart professed loudly. He waved his arm in a grand gesture at the bird cage. "Now, don't be frightened, children. Undoubtedly these are dangerous and tricky little blighters, but there is no need to worry… for _I_ am here with you!" With a dramatic sweep of his wand, the white fabric draped around the cage flew into the air. It landed gracelessly on the blond's head.

The class stared in disbelief. After two agonizing minutes of complete silence (during which Lockhart beamed toothily at them all), Seamus voiced what was on all of their minds.

"Cornish pixies?!" The Irish student let out a snort of laughter. "Are you serious? _Cornish pixies_!"

Lockhart huffed arrogantly. "Well then, let's see what you make of them." He unlatched the door (with his hands this time), and all hell broke loose. Papers, quills, and ink were suddenly flying through the air. Loud crashes came from the windows as they were smashed by electric blue bodies, and the glass crunched under the students' feet. Lockhart waved his wand and shouted ineffectually, and his wand went flying too. Poor Neville would have been hoisted into the air by the pixies as well, had Ron (who had mysteriously sat next to him all week in all of their classes) not pulled him away first.

Harry quickly shoveled his books into his bag. On one hand, he could let the pixies tear them apart and have a legitimate excuse not to do any homework for this ridiculous class. On the other, someone (most likely Hermione) would probably make him replace them and he'd have to waste even more money on the idiot's fairy tales.

A pixie snatched at his glasses and Harry barely dodged the tiny hand in time. He twirled his wand in a spiral, "_Flippendo_!" The blue creature was knocked backwards from the force of the spell. It caught itself in midair, waving its fist indignantly.

Harry ducked into the corner of the room, firing another _flippendo_. Unfortunately, it did little damage to the pixies.

"_Immobulus_!"

He glanced at the shout; Hermione had just frozen a pair of pixies, dropping them harmlessly to the floor. He watched carefully as she repeated the charm, making note of the wand movements.

"_Immobulus_!" The spell shot out of his wand, missing a pixie by a hairsbreadth and ricocheting off of the sole intact window. It slammed into Lockhart, stopping him mid-crawl as he tried to escape the room.

'_Oops…' _he thought, though he couldn't actually bring himself to care all that much.

A shrill sound rang out and Harry jumped before recognizing the bell to go. The other students trampled out in a mad dash to escape the chaos the pixies were causing. He followed behind, pulling a reluctant Hermione along with him. Lockhart could handle the few pixies left, couldn't he? As soon as he was unfrozen, that is.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly and dully with the usual droning quality of the first days of class. Fortunately, Ron seemed to have forgiven Harry for his unnoticed transgression and had started sitting with him again, though he still seemed more argumentative than before.

Despite the somewhat positive outlook, Harry was still not in the mood to be up at the crack of dawn for Quidditch practice. Unfortunately, Wood was. And if Wood was in the mood for an early practice that meant everyone else must be, too.

Usually Harry would have used the time before breakfast to train the less discreet shinobi arts; namely taijutsu and the flashier ninjutsu. As it was, he'd have to rearrange his schedule for the day if he didn't want to lose any more time.

"Hey, Harry!" A high voice greeted cheerfully and the green-eyed wizard stifled a groan. Colin Creevey was a menace, no doubt about it.

"Hullo, Colin," he replied wearily. Frankly, it was disturbing to be the object of someone's obsession, though (and he would never admit it to anyone) somewhat flattering. Still, he wished the first year would leave him alone, but nothing really seemed to shake him off. There were only so many places he could hide from a fellow house-mate, even in a castle as big as Hogwarts, and the first year seemed to be able to take any rudeness or reluctance on Harry's part in stride with willful ignorance.

Colin chattered on happily, firing questions one after another. Harry briefly wondered if ignoring him would make him go away, but at the rate the first-year was going (he was barely stopping to breathe, let alone actually get answers for his questions) he would follow him regardless.

The trip to the Pitch seemed to take at least three times as long in unwanted company, so Harry was relieved when the first year finally left for the stands. He was not so happy being stuck with Wood while he droned on about new plays for this year's upcoming matches.

After what seemed to be an age, the Gryffindor team stood ready on the Pitch, brooms in hand. Much to their irritation, they weren't the only ones.

"What are you doing here, Flint?!" Wood barked, outraged. "We booked the Pitch!"

The Slytherin captain smirked, waving a slip of parchment at the Gryffindor keeper. "We've got permission from Professor Snape to use the Pitch," he replied coolly, "owing to the need to train our new seeker."

Harry watched unsurprised as Malfoy sauntered out of the pack of Slytherin boys, carrying an obviously new broom and tilting it in such a way that the sunlight gleamed sharply off its polished surface. He glanced at the rest of the team's brooms. They were completely identical.

It didn't take much to guess why Malfoy was the new seeker, then. A few moments later, with Ron and Hermione's arrival, and that guess was confirmed.

The standoff degenerated rapidly from there, each side snapping out biting comments at the other (though Malfoy seemed to be at the head of most of them). To Harry's surprise, even Hermione joined in, and her remark about talent had clearly hit a nerve.

"No one asked you, you disgusting mudblood!" Malfoy spat, face tinged an angry pink. The uproar caused by that single sentence could probably be heard from the castle. While Hermione looked confused, the entire Gryffindor team leapt to her defense – some physically, as Fred and George demonstrated not a second later.

Ron drew his wand, snarling at the pale-faced Slytherin. _"You'll pay for that, Malfoy!"_

A vibrant green curse shot out of his wand, slamming squarely into the second-year Slytherin's face. Malfoy went white, then green as he coughed up something foul. A big, gray slug fell from his mouth, its own secretions and saliva dripping off it in thick globs.

The Pitch went eerily silent as the Slytherins, no longer amused, looked from their seeker to the righteously defiant Gryffindors. Almost in unison the six team-mates drew their wands. Two of them fired jinxes in Ron's direction while the rest aimed for the remaining eight… no, nine, Harry corrected himself as a curse narrowly missed Colin while he took pictures from the sidelines.

Harry ducked out of the firefight as the Gryffindors retaliated, slipping unobtrusively behind the Slytherin team. _"Immobulus!" _he whispered, and Flint was frozen in place. One of the Slytherins yelled and whipped around, but Harry had already darted away, firing another two spells as he went.

He noticed Angelina fall backwards with a bloody nose, while another Slytherin narrowly avoided a vicious bat-bogey hex from George (or possibly Fred). Hermione was not immune to the sudden skirmish, and even she brandished her wand threateningly.

"_Stop this at once!" _

All activity immediately ceased at McGonagall's enraged shout. She panted, hair flying from its usual bun and her robes were in slight disarray. She must have run the entire way there. Harry vaguely recalled that her classroom had a window overlooking the Pitch; she must have been there when the fight started.

"Shameful! I expected better from all of you!" she snapped. Suddenly she zeroed in on Hermione. "Particularly you, Miss Granger!" The transfiguration Professor's stern gaze swept around the field, taking in the sixteen roughed up students and one first-year with a camera. Her lips thinned. Harry assumed that she'd just noticed what Colin had been doing instead of alerting a teacher. Hermione seemed to find her toes extremely interesting and lowered her wand, cheeks red.

"Never in my life have I seen such a disgraceful display! That will be twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and a week of detention for _each of you_! I will also be sending a notice to your families."

The students paled as they realized exactly how many points they had lost. Slytherin was down one hundred and forty points, while Gryffindor was down two hundred. All at once.

"Mum's going to kill me," Ron choked. "Term's barely even started…"

McGonagall stared down at their white faces. "Be grateful that it wasn't more. If something like this happens again, you will _all_ be banned from playing this year. Now get back to your dorms and Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing; there will certainly be no Quidditch for any of you today."

* * *

The rest of September, along with the detentions thankfully, passed quickly and easily for everyone save Hermione. The girl seemed to have had a minor breakdown – it was the first time she'd ever gotten in trouble at school and, needless to say, she didn't find the experience pleasant at all. At least she wasn't glaring at Ron (who, in her opinion, had instigated the entire episode) anymore.

Harry scowled as he curled in the great armchair nearest the hearth. The closer Halloween came the worse his mood seemed to get. Not only was it getting colder, but the entire season somehow seemed off to him. He wasn't quite sure what it was; it's not like he'd ever had a real problem with the holiday before, despite it being the anniversary of his parents' death. Maybe it was Nick's deathday party? No, there was no reason for him to be upset about that; it was just a favor…

Whatever it was though, the glaring red of Gryffindor tower only seemed to make it worse. Harry dropped his quill, irritated. He wasn't going to get any work done like this. _The world erupted into flames and trembled beneath his feet. Smoke curled from dry, burnt shells that had once been buildings, had once been _people_. Something shattered and there was a deep rumble as another home collapsed. A bestial roar tore through the air; nothing less than the scream of Hell…_

"Harry?"

He blinked. "Y-yeah?" _What was that? _Something like this hadn't happened since before he'd first entered his mind. He felt his hand shake and clenched it into a fist.

"Are you all right? You look pale," Hermione watched him in concern.

Harry nodded, flashing a faint smile in her direction. "I'm fine," he said, "though I think I'll turn in a bit early."

Hermione frowned but didn't press the issue. "All right, but if you're still feeling bad tomorrow you're going to Madame Pomfrey."

"Of course." He gathered his things and disappeared into the boys' dorm. Closing the curtains around him, he settled in and cleared his mind. Whatever that memory had been, he was going to find it.


	9. In the Rough

A/N: You guys get this one early because my poor computer has to go get fixed again this weekend. That, unfortunately, means that there will be a bit of a dry-spell concerning my writing, so the next chapter will most likely be late. Sorry.

This bit irritates me, though it is entirely my fault, I'm pretty sure. THERE WILL BE NO PAIRINGS WITH HARRY IN THEM! I'm not good at writing romance, nor do I wish to see it become one of the main focuses of this story. There may be side pairings, but that will be all. Thank you.

IMPORTANT: This chapter's memory sequence has been EDITED to fit more accurately within cannon (as per chapter 503). It therefore contains MINOR SPOILERS. Note that you probably won't understand it if you haven't read it, and you don't need to. The following conversation between Minato and Harry merely touches on what _everyone _should know about the naru-verse.

* * *

Chapter Eight – In the Rough

* * *

Harry fell into his mindscape, stepping over the partially repaired crack in the floor. He paid no mind to the Mirror of Erised, instead heading toward the series of twisting corridors he knew contained his – Minato's – memories. He knew that the blond shinobi would be upset that he had decided to 'skip a few chapters of the book,' but the sight of those blackened corpses… in the middle of the common room, no less…

He stopped when he found a torn rice-paper door. The edges of it had been burnt, and flecks of red stained the paper. A faint odor of scorched flesh seemed to drift from inside, and he knew he'd found the right one. He pulled it open, not even pausing to charge the crystals.

* * *

_He felt himself calm as he faced the cloaked man, so similar to Uchiha Madara. There could be no error here. Failure right now meant so much more than his life._

_It would all come down to who was faster._

_One instant._

_Two._

_The three-pronged kunai, as expected, passed through the masked man's head. _Rasengan_ instantly formed in one hand._

_Now!_

_He teleported to the kunai a split second before the man's hand took hold. From above, he drove the sphere of chakra down on the man's back, placing a _Hiraishin _seal on his back the moment of impact__ –_

_

* * *

_

Harry gasped as he was roughly pulled from the memory. "Minato–"

"Did you even think about what the consequences for that memory could be? No, don't answer that. I know you didn't. Harry, you're not—"

"Ready for it?" He exploded. "You know exactly what I saw in the common room. You want me to ignore something like that?"

"Yes."

Harry was momentarily stunned into silence.

"Let me ask you something, Harry. Would you die for your friends, your home?"

What kind of question was that? "I… y-yeah." If it ever came to that, if his death ever meant his friends could live in peace, then yes, he would.

"Would you kill for them?"

He paled. Where exactly was Minato going with this? Kill? Could he really stain his hands with the blood of others, even for his friends? "…yes…"

The blond didn't miss the slight hesitation and his eyes narrowed. "If one of them, if Ron had to die for the same end, for Hermione and everyone else to live in peace, would you kill him?"

"No!" The word flew from his mouth without him even having to think about it.

"Then you're not ready for that memory."

Harry's eyes were wide. "Is that it?" he yelled. "Is that what you did? You… you killed a _friend _as a _means to an end_? Is that what that memory is?" _You mean I, don't you?_ A nasty part of his mind whispered. _He's you and you are him no matter how you try and deny it._

"No… no I didn't. But until you can at least understand the question, you are not ready for that memory."

"What is there to understand? Nothing could be worth that, not ever."

"You did understand though, once."

Harry didn't reply, vanishing from his mindscape.

* * *

The weeks to Halloween passed slowly, and Harry didn't return to his mindscape once during those days. He knew it was stupid, but he didn't want to understand. He didn't want to become the person that he had been.

_You already are._

He knew that he would go back. But not yet.

Harry dragged himself back to the present, watching another ghost drift sadly through the table of rotting and moldy food. What a waste.

_'Isn't it also wasteful to not use resources?_' He was briefly reminded of _shosenjutsu_.

His train of thought was abruptly cut off as a hunting horn sounded through the dungeon, preceding a group of ghostly riders. Nearly Headless Nick rolled his eyes and muttered darkly as the dozen or so horses plunged through the walls.

If he had been in a better mood (and the atmosphere of the party certainly didn't help), Harry might have handled the exuberant troop of headless huntsmen with more grace. As it was their presence, and the way Sir Patrick needled at Nick, irritated him enough that he was decidedly less tactful than he could have been.

"How unoriginal," he said flatly.

"Excuse me?" Sir Patrick asked, startled and a bit offended.

"You come in here to crash a party and throw your heads around a bit. Do you even know how to do anything else?"

Sir Patrick opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as Harry continued. "I mean, it's not even frightening anymore, really. There's no shock value at having someone's head fall off like that."

"Oh? And what do you suggest we do about it?" there was a definite note of frost in the ghost's voice. The crowd of dead people watched the pair uncertainly.

Nick seemed to take that as his cue to let his own head fall, swinging by its thin attachment. "Now, now, Harry," the head swung back, Nick's face a full 360 degrees behind him as the sinew twisted, "Patrick. There's no need," his head swung forward again, "to argue. This is a party!" He continued speaking between swings, causing the crowd to laugh as it broke the tension. Harry snorted.

Sir Patrick eyed him suspiciously and he mouthed 'one trick pony' at him. The ghost huffed indignantly and went to speak to Nick.

Harry smirked. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you think that worked?" she asked incredulously.

"No idea."

Ron's stomach grumbled, though Harry wasn't sure how the redhead could even think of being hungry while in the presence of all that rotten food. "Ugh, let's go. I'm starving."

Hermione seemed to agree. Her initial excitement at seeing a deathday party had long since faded. "If we hurry we should be able to catch the tail-end of the feast."

Harry nodded, more than ready to get out of there.

The three left the dungeon, gratefully leaving behind the morbid scene.

_"…kill… so hungry…"_

Harry's steps nearly faltered and he glanced around as inconspicuously as he could. There was nothing there.

_"…rip…tear…"_

The voice seemed familiar somehow; not in its frigidity or even its sound, but one tiny quality that he couldn't seem to put a name to.

Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to hear anything. Quickly, he made a decision. "Hey, guys, I'm heading up to the dorm."

Hermione frowned. "You're not coming to the feast?"

"I'm not hungry; not after watching those ghosts try to eat."

"Suit yourself, mate," Ron shrugged.

He waved his two friends off and headed toward the stairs, walking a little faster once they were out of sight.

_"…I smell blood…"_

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, sending droplets of water flying from the soaked floor. Mrs. Norris hung stiffly from a torch bracket on the wall. But even more important… He cautiously stepped forward, examining the crimson message. Was that…?

He scratched it lightly but the blood, if that's really what it was, refused to flake off at all. Whoever had written this had wanted it to stay.

Suddenly he could hear soft noises coming from either direction. Footsteps? The sound of students conversing happily reached his ears. He glanced around, knowing full well that it would be suspicious if he were caught here. The corridor was clear; barely any portraits hung along its walls, let alone something he could hide behind. He looked up.

Students thundered into the corridor from both sides. The cheerful laughter abruptly ceased as they stared. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

All at once they were gasping and pointing, and loud chatter started up as the people in the back of the crowds wondered what was going on.

Harry observed the ruckus from the ceiling, clinging on by his chakra. He hoped that no one had the presence of mind to look up. No one outside of the shinobi nations ever seemed to.

Filch walked into the scene with a horrid wail as he caught sight of Mrs. Norris, followed shortly by Dumbledore and a few other professors. Harry hung silently directly above them, trying his best to listen in on their hushed conversation.

_"Petrified… Mandrake restorative…"_

_"…extremely dark magic…"_

_"But who could have…"_

_"Not to worry! I'll catch the varmint who dared…"_

_"Who wasn't at the feast?"_

Harry felt a nervous feeling clench in his gut at the last comment. Who indeed? Very few students were willing to miss the Halloween celebrations. The 'Golden Trio's' lack of presence most likely wouldn't have gone unnoticed.

_"…be ridiculous. No student could have…"_

He grimaced as he realized that it wasn't definitely the message that was most important. Mrs. Norris had been, what was it, petrified, which was something no normal student was capable of. Extremely dark magic. This was something that even Dumbledore couldn't cure with a wave of his wand. What chance did he have if whoever – or whatever – had done it ran into him? There wouldn't be a thing he could do; not with magic, anyway. He was too inexperienced a wizard.

But he didn't have to rely on magic, did he?

Harry frowned at the thought. As reluctant as he was to go back to his mindscape, he knew that letting his own stubbornness put himself in danger was idiotic. Chakra could be his trump card, if only he had the will, and ability, to use it. No one here even knew that it existed.

Heaving a silent sigh in resignation, he resolved to make his way back to his mindscape for the first time in weeks. After he got back to the dorm, of course…

Harry quietly raced the crowd of students back to Gryffindor tower, arriving only a few minutes before they did. Hastily grabbing his school supplies, he tried to look like he had been doing homework the entire time.

Hermione bustled into the common room, wide-eyed and nearly trembling in excitement. "Harry! Oh, you'll never _believe _what happened on the way back from the feast…" she seemed to have forgotten that he would have had to cross the scene on his way back to the tower, discounting any secret passages along the way.

_'Try me,'_ he thought, settling himself in for what was undoubtedly a retelling of Mrs. Norris's fate and the writing on the wall._ 'I probably know more than you do…'_

_

* * *

_

Harry watched nervously as Hermione and Ron plotted the theft of at least two different ingredients from Snape's private stores. A henge would work just as well. It would certainly be a lot less hassle.

The only problem was, when he had suggested that they let him take care of it, they had rather flatly disagreed.

He supposed he could always teach them how to use the jutsu, but that would probably take longer than making the potion. They didn't have any prior experience to go off of, or any training to increase their chakra, after all. In addition to that, there would be a lot of awkward questions about where he had learned such a 'spell.'

"You know," Hermione sniffed, "this would go a lot more smoothly if you would help us."

"It would be even better if you'd just let me–"

"Oh, come off it, mate," Ron drawled. "What can you do that we can't?"

There was a hint of something dark in his question that Harry couldn't quite figure out.

"Well…" he trailed off as he caught a glimpse of what Hermione was writing. "Oh, you're not serious, are you?"

She glanced up at him. "What?"

"Fireworks, Hermione? That'll cause a lot of havoc, yeah, but what if we're brewing something dangerous?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We're scheduled to brew Swelling Solution that day."

How on earth did she know _that_? "Still, there're tons of things that can go wrong with a plan like that."

"Well I don't see you coming up with any ideas," she huffed. "And don't start telling us to let you take care of it again."

"Please? Listen, all I'd need you to do is get Crabbe or Goyle out of the way for an hour or two."

"But Harry—"

"It'll be a lot faster than a month."

"…"

"If it doesn't work we can always use the Polyjuice. It's just my method is a bit less risky. It can't hurt to let me try, can it?"

The bushy-haired witch's resistance faltered. "I suppose not…"

Ron glanced between the two. "So what're we going to do, then?"

Hermione hesitated. "I guess we'll let Harry try things his way first. When can we start?"

Harry smiled in relief. "Whenever you want."


	10. Stagehands

IMPORTANT: Chapters 6 (Ignition) and 8 (In the Rough) have been updated to fit more correctly within cannon (as per chapter 504). The changes are minor and affect _only_ the memory sequences. However, they do contain MINOR (as in positively minuscule) SPOILERS for contents_ leading up to_ the most recent chapters!

A/N: Admittedly, recent chapters (up to 504) have thrown me for a loop. I had a history for Minato and Kushina kind of planned out, and the now-cannon timeline _really_ messed with it. Overall, this shouldn't affect the story too much, but I have had to rework some of the previous chapters (as stated above).

Also, I am so, so sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out. Writer's block (and new chapters throwing a curve ball at you) really sucks, and that's all I can say.

* * *

Chapter Nine – Stagehands

* * *

As it turned out, 'whenever you want' wouldn't be until after the next day's Quidditch match. Harry was glad to be in the air again; the freedom of the skies, the thrill of the chase…

The freakishly persistent bludger.

He had known that it had been tampered with the moment he'd passed within three meters of it. It had immediately rocketed in his direction, despite being closer Alicia. And now, no matter what he did, it refused to chase after anyone else.

Then the second bludger whipped around. Harry ducked, and the heavy ball brushed right over his head. It narrowly missed colliding with the first tampered Bludger, spinning to trail after him once it leveled with its counterpart.

He cursed. '_Who the hell did I piss off that badly?'_

There was no possible way for anyone to miss the fact that he had both Bludgers trying their hardest to break his bones, but no foul was called. The game continued, Fred and George on his tail to try and beat back the rouge Quidditch equipment.

Harry spiraled into a dive, hoping the increased speed would add some distance between him and the crazy Bludgers. His prized Nimbus 2000 had never flown quite so fast before, and he marveled in its swiftness.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn't linger. The Bludgers streaked after him defiantly, twin smears of stormy grey nearly matching the pace of his broom.

Harry swerved around the Slytherin goal posts. _'New plan. Let's see…' _Quickly scanning the Pitch, he located the closest target. Conveniently, the nearest Slytherin player was Malfoy.

He ducked underneath the opposing Seeker, rising again before the Bludgers had a chance to descend. He almost felt sorry for Malfoy, really he did.

Unable to dodge in time, the two Bludgers slammed into the second-year Slytherin and he dropped like a rock, howling in pain. Fortunately one of the teachers had the presence of mind to catch him before he hit the ground.

Madame Hooch's whistle sounded sharply and the remaining thirteen players landed.

She eyed the groaning boy briefly before sending him to the Hospital Wing. "Do you have a reserve Seeker?" she asked Flint.

He sourly shook his head. Their old Seeker had graduated, and with Malfoy's 'donation' to the team they hadn't bothered to consider any other players.

"Would you like to continue playing or do you forfeit?"

Flint's upper lip curled in distaste. Harry knew that for them, nothing could be worse than forfeiting to a Gryffindor, let alone a team of them. But he also knew that Flint knew when to cut his losses. Without their Seeker, their chances of victory would be cut drastically, but if they quit now they'd still have more points overall. With that in mind, Harry knew exactly what the Slytherin team captain would say next.

"We forfeit."

Unfortunately, the bludgers didn't seem to share the sentiment, hurtling around the pitch once before seeming to lock on to Harry's presence once more.

_Shit._ Quickly brandishing his wand, he fired a rapid _expelliarmus_ at the bludgers, knocking them back a couple of meters.

Hooch, meanwhile, had not simply been standing by. Quickly she fired her own spell at the two bludgers, deactivating them instantly. She frowned at them, but as the game was already finished, could do nothing about the obvious foul-play.

Harry sighed. _'Quidditch must be cursed…'_

_

* * *

_

"Are you sure about this, Harry?"

"Of course."

"Good. Do you remember the incantation?"

"Yes, Hermione. Don't worry about it; everything will be fine."

Hermione nodded, looking a little flustered now that she realized that she had almost no control over the situation. She liked things better when she did things herself; relying on people was something she had only begun to do last year.

Ron rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Hermione. You're the one that let him talk us into this. Don't worry about it now."

It was several days after the match, and Ron and Hermione were both anxious to get finished with the investigation now that Malfoy had been released from the Hospital Wing. The attack on Creevey had only heightened their concern.

In any case, that was why the three Gryffindors were huddled into a bathroom just outside the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione's job was to distract either Crabbe or Goyle for as long as possible. Unfortunately, the two didn't seem to go anywhere without each other, so they had hoped to ambush one of them on the way to the bathroom. That meant they had tailed them ("Stalking," Ron muttered irritably.) until one of them needed to go.

"Alright. If he wakes up early we'll be sure to keep him occupied."

The plan had so far gone off without a hitch. After dropping Goyle's unconscious form into the stall, Harry exited the restroom fully disguised as the Slytherin.

Crabbe was waiting right outside the door. He grunted and they left. As it was just after dinner, Harry hoped that they'd head straight to the common room. Luckily they did, as he wasn't sure how long he could hold the henge.

"_Serpent-tongue,_" Crabbe grunted at a stretch of empty stone. The wall slid open, revealing a cavernous, green-themed common room. Immediately Harry noticed that the atmosphere, while not unpleasant, wasn't as comfortable as Gryffindor's. At least it wasn't red.

Malfoy sauntered in not long afterward, looking for all the world like he owned the place. "Crabbe, Goyle! Where have you two been? Stuffing your faces, I expect…"

Harry quietly muttered the incantation to the spell Hermione had found the day after the match. It would allow him to record ten or so minutes of sound on his wand.

"…at least your dinner tasted all right. I've still got to take potions from last week-end's match," the pale Slytherin's face twisted into an expression of disgust. He settled into an emerald wing-back chair, motioning for Crabbe and 'Goyle' to do the same.

Hoping that it wasn't too out of character for the bulky Slytherin Harry asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

If it was, Malfoy didn't notice. "I'm fine, but it was utterly disgraceful. Hit by both Bludgers! The only consolation was seeing that mudblood Creevey's face, stiff as a board. It's a pity he didn't die. If it were up to me, he certainly would have. Of course, if it were up to me, Granger would have been first."

Harry nodded. That was all he needed to hear. Excusing himself, he casually left the dungeon. He would have stayed longer to wheedle more information of the pureblood, but he had no idea how long the real Goyle would be out for, and neither did he know enough of his character to accurately imitate him for a long period of time.

Ducking behind a suit of armor, Harry dropped the henge and made his way back to his friends. Giving them the all-clear, they headed to the common room to find an out-of-the-way corner to listen to the recording in.

* * *

Hearing Malfoy say that he wasn't, in fact, the heir, hardly deterred Hermione from researching everything she could about the Chamber of Secrets. One avenue of investigation closed, she said, simply left room for others. Ron was somewhat put out about their failure, but admitted to still wanting to know who was behind everything. Rarely for him, part of his reason was out of concern for Hermione, who, as a muggleborn, was a sure target for petrification.

Harry himself was still curious, but only insofar as their safety was concerned. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be done about it for now. He wasn't confident enough in his knowledge of magic to be sure that it was wise for them to confront whatever the danger was, and without understanding it first he didn't want to use any shinobi arts against it. The best he could do for now was to wait on the sidelines and learn as much as he could.

The professors seemed to have much the same idea; or at least Lockhart smelled a new opportunity to boost his popularity. Either way, almost the entire school was required to attend his dueling competition. Which was how Harry found himself standing on a platform in front of Malfoy.

It was not the first time he'd been singled out by their Defense professor, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Lockhart, to his right, attempted to show Harry what was undoubtedly a bogus defensive charm. Ignoring him, he unobtrusively worked himself into a stance that would allow him to dodge quickly should he need to. Uncertainly, Harry watched as Snape whispered into Malfoy's ear. Surely even Snape knew not to push things too far in front of the whole school, right?

'_If Lockhart was a quarter as useful as he says he is…'_ he cut off his train of thought as the blond started the countdown.

"Three… two… one!"

"_Serpensortia!_" Malfoy cried without hesitation.

Harry blinked down at the meter-long snake Malfoy had summoned. All things considered it was rather… unimpressive. Sure, snake bites were painful, but Harry recognized the breed as one that wasn't venomous.

_Poisonous yellow eyes. A giant serpent. Traitor._

"Not to worry, I'll get rid of it!" Lockhart exclaimed excitedly, snapping him back to reality.

"Don't bother," Harry replied, "_Flippendo!_" The spell snapped off before Lockhart could finish elaborately twirling his wand.

The snake was blasted backward, straight toward Malfoy. Furious and in pain, it let out an angry hiss and snapped at the Slytherin.

"_Ouch! Filthy human. Cold cave!"_

Harry nearly choked on saliva. That was… the snake? Malfoy nervously backed away from the reptile, nearly falling off the platform.

"_Send me home, stick-waver, or I'll bite you!"_

The voice, undoubtedly from the snake, carried a similar quality to the voice he'd heard in the hallways on Halloween. What was it?

"_Poison upon your bloodstream! Send-"_

At this point Snape decided to intervene, vanishing the snake with a wave of his wand. But at its last comment, Harry finally recognized the vague hissing undertone. It was the same way he'd heard Minato speak to the door containing Voldemort in his mindscape.

What was it? That wasn't the way the shinobi normally spoke. He could probably ask, but he hadn't seen the man at all since Harry had tried to look into the memory behind the ruined door. He was still a bit ticked off about their conversation afterward.

"_You did understand though, once."_

Harry barely paid attention as he and Malfoy were sent away from the platform and two 'more responsible' students were chosen for the demonstration. What could be worth sacrificing someone you love for? _The needs of the many versus the needs of the few._

'_I won't ever understand,'_ he thought, hissing voices forgotten.


	11. Crimson Holiday

A/N: Enjoy!

SPOILER ALERT! If you're not up to chapter 498 in Naruto, you may wish to skip the memory sequences. That would be the _italicized_ portion. Don't say I didn't warn you!

* * *

Chapter Ten - Crimson Holiday

* * *

Christmas break passed in a white haze of snowfall and book pages. Hermione, having stayed during break to research the Chamber, refused to let up and had buried herself nose-deep in anything that might tell her what could Petrify a group of students without leaving a mark. Harry went with her on principle. Anything that could do that to him was something he needed to learn to defend against.

Meanwhile Ron took on the role of joker, attempting to push the both of them into enjoying the holidays. When they dove too far into research, he pulled them back with a game of Exploding Snap or ideas to prank the Slytherins. Of course, pranking was more the twins' speed, but Ron, having been left to his own devices for a good portion of the break, was bored. And if there was one thing Harry had learned about the Weasley's, it was that they and boredom didn't mix.

"I don't understand," Hermione frowned, closing her book. "A cockatrice could Petrify someone, but the effect would turn him or her into stone…" She worried at her lip for a moment before jumping out of her seat. "But if it was indirect…"

"Hermione?" Harry called from his seat at their shared table, but only succeeded in earning a glare from Madame Pince. Why didn't she ever glare at Hermione like that? She was the one talking non-stop.

"Oh, but of course! Why didn't I see it before? Petrification is such a powerful curse I never would have thought that it could come from an indirect source…"

"Hermione!"

Madame Pince cleared her throat very pointedly.

"Oh, go on Harry! I just need to check a few things. I'll be done in a bit."

"That's not…" catching sight of the look on the librarian's face, he decided it was probably time to cut his losses before he was banned from the library. "Alright," he replied. "There're a few things I have to catch up on myself, I suppose."

Unfortunately, he mused as he wandered back to the Tower, very few of those things involved anything as mundane as homework or Quidditch practice. He slipped into the second years' dorm room and collapsed on his bed with a sigh. Shutting the curtains around him, he stopped to meditate for the first time in weeks.

* * *

"_Uzumaki?" he asked his sensei in surprise. She was the pretty red-head that had made fun of him in the Academy. Why would anyone want to kidnap her, though? Was it because she was from Whirlpool?_

"_Yes. Sensei's organized a strike team to find her," Jiraiya replied tersely. Was it just him or did he actually look worried? "I'm a part of that team, and as my students you get to help me. Don't do anything stupid, like try to take out enemy shinobi on your own, okay? If you find anything, alert me first. I'll send a toad with you three, so that shouldn't be too difficult. Now let's go!"_

_He nodded thoughtfully. The three of them were only genin still, so it only made sense to avoid contact with the enemy as much as possible._

_The four of them vanished outside of the gates, Jiraiya heading in one direction, the three genin in another._

_It was only hours later that he finally caught sight of something. A tiny flash of red…_

"_Minato? What are you doing? We've already been that way."_

"_No, wait, there's something here!"_

"_Dammit Minato! I'm not wasting my time going that way when we've _already looked there_!"_

_He frowned. "Suit yourself," he snapped, unusually angry. He hated when his teammates refused to listen to him. Just because he was younger didn't mean he didn't know what he was doing! The two genin left, taking the little toad with them._

'Brilliant!'_ he thought as he bent over the thin strand of red. _'She used her hair…'

_Glancing through the trees, he saw another tiny shimmer of scarlet. Grinning, he started to follow the trail._

_

* * *

_

_He bit his lip as he scanned the small group of enemy shinobi, wishing that the toad his sensei had summoned was still with him. Or at least his teammates. He should really call for backup first, but if he did that they'd surely pass the border before he made it back._

_There was no time._

_Hands sliding from one seal to another as quickly as he could, he cast a subtle genjutsu. He grinned when the group slowly changed course to the left, left… If they kept going, they'd end up walking in a circle. It gave him at least a few minutes before they caught on._

_Hurriedly he used his equipment to lay a few traps that they would hit if they kept going on his predicted course. Just another minute…_

_There! He felt the group's presence faintly as they walked right on target. One step, two…_

_An enemy chunin tripped a wire, setting off a chain reaction that flung kunai at them from multiple directions. In the ensuing chaos, he darted in and pulled Uzumaki from the fray. He heard shouts behind him, but they were far too preoccupied to give chase. Another second…_

_A loud explosion signaled the activation of an exploding tag._

"_N-Namikaze?"_

"_Hi, Uzumaki-san!" he smiled down at her, briefly stopping on a treetop to catch his bearings._

"_How did you find me?"_

_He grinned. How did she think he'd found her? "I noticed your beautiful hair right away!"_

_Her eyes widened as she gazed up at him from where she was cradled in his arms, cheeks stained a soft red._

_

* * *

_

_Jiraiya-sensei shot him an indecipherable look when he dropped down from the treetops with Uzumaki._

"_I-I'm sorry sensei. They didn't think… she was about to… I just…" He stopped, no longer entirely sure what he was trying to say. The mission had been a success, but he'd defied his sensei's orders. It could have easily ended in disaster._

_Jiraiya's eyes flicked once to Uzumaki then back to him, gaze still completely unreadable. The white-haired shinobi sighed. "Let's go home. We'll talk later, kid. For now, good job."_

_Smiling uncertainly, he followed his sensei back to Konoha._

_

* * *

_

"_You three are idiots," were Jiraiya-sensei's first words to them the next morning, right before training. "The fact that you two," he said, jabbing a finger at his two teammates, "were too prideful to listen to Minato could have cost us the mission. And you," the white-haired man snapped, pointing at him, "could have cost us the mission as well. What were you thinking, going in on your own?"_

_The three of them hung their heads. Jiraiya sighed. "This time everything ended okay. Next time it probably won't. Teamwork, you three! Do I have to spell it out to you?"_

"_N-no, sensei," they muttered._

"_Don't let it happen again."_

_As his teammates unenthusiastically began to spar, Jiraiya waved him over. "I won't lie to you, kid. What you did yesterday was as impressive as it was stupid. And I probably would have done the same thing. But I expected better of you. Remind me, what was the main point of the bell test?"_

"_Teamwork…" he replied glumly._

"_Right. You were the first one to get it. Now, I really want you to _understand_ it," he ruffled his blond hair and grinned. "But first, I think someone wants to talk to you."_

_He glanced to the edge of the training field. "Uzumaki-san?"_

"_Namikaze-kun," she called cheerfully, dashing over and dragging him off to who-knows-where, "I want to show you something, dattebane. Call it a thank-you or whatever, but I think you'll like it. It seems like something you'd be interested in, anyway… Oh, and you can call me Kushina."_

_He blinked. She'd said all of that seemingly without breathing. "Um, okay?" he said uncertainly. Where was the girl who had teased him in school? "You can call me Minato then, I guess."_

"_Great!" she grinned. "So, Minato, what do you know about sealing?"_

_

* * *

_

Harry closed the door to the memory with a warm feeling growing in his chest. "_Castitas,_" he cast absently, charging the crystalline seal. He wanted to go on to the next one, but he knew from experience that he was at his limit. It was time to go.

Gazing down the stone corridor, he wondered how long it would take to get through all of his prior life's memories. He still had to go through his newer ones, because the longer he left those seals uncharged, the longer they would be less protected.

"Harry?"

He jumped, wand-hand jerking awkwardly down before he realized who it was. "Minato? What…" he stopped, not sure what to say.

"You've been thinking about what I told you," he stated.

Harry bit his lip. As much as he'd tried not to think of it, he had found his thoughts wandering to that conversation far more than he wanted.

"Don't let it distract you. You've got time still. Plus you also have more important things to be thinking about."

"Like what?" he asked, a bit more rudely than he'd intended. He frowned, eyeing the blond oddly. He seemed… blurry?

"Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

Harry blinked and looked down. What exactly was he supposed to be see… oh. He wasn't wearing what he had been when he'd started meditating. He still had on his wizard's robes, open at the front, but underneath his clothes were loose and unrestricting, though not to the point of Dudley's elephantine cast-offs. It was all clothes he remembered buying after graduating as a genin. He even had a pouch for shuriken strapped to his right leg.

"Why…?"

"You're starting to think more like you used to. It's showing in your mental appearance and, unfortunately, your reactions."

"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' Learning all of this is good, isn't it?"

"Only to a certain extent. Right now you're training as a wizard and as a shinobi, correct?"

"Yeah…"

"When I surprised you just a minute ago, what did you reach for first?"

Harry paused. He thought he'd been ready to cast a spell, but realized that he'd halfway reached for a shuriken at the same moment. If he'd followed through, any curse he'd have cast would've gone wildly off course.

"I… tried for both…"

"Exactly."

"But I don't want-"

"I'm not saying you have to give up one for the other," Minato interrupted before he could voice the thought. "But you've got to start training with both styles in mind. Not each separately. Think of it like your taijutsu and ninjutsu. You don't just use one then the other. You use them both _together_. Add your spells to the mix when you train, otherwise you're styles will clash."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Find out what Hermione knows about the Chamber."

He frowned. "She'll tell us when she's ready."

Minato smiled wryly. "No offense to her, but she has got to learn to share her ideas, even if she isn't sure they're right."

"Hey…"

The blond laughed. "She's not perfect, Harry. As her friend, it's your job to point out to her what she's doing wrong. And she seemed to know what the monster is, didn't she? What if she's right and something happened that prevented her from sharing that knowledge?"

Harry hesitated.

Minato sighed. "Don't be so afraid of offending her. Either she knows you're just trying to help her, or she'll get over it soon enough. She's not nearly as fragile as you think she is. Just be tactful about it, okay?"

"Okay…"

"It's about time you got going, isn't it?"

"Yeah… hey, wait! Why are you all blurry?"

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it. You'll figure it out soon enough."

* * *

Harry blinked open his eyes and pushed aside the curtains. Looking at his clock, it appeared that only fifteen or so minutes had passed. Hermione was probably still in the library. That in mind, he headed back down.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted.

Said witch was busily scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, three books laid out around her. "Oh, Harry," she muttered absently, "I thought you were with Ron?"

"I came to see what you were doing."

"I'm not done yet," she muttered, nearly tipping the ink bottle in her haste.

"Can I still see?"

She frowned, finally looking up. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I might be able to help if I knew what you were doing."

"Maybe," she waved her hand dismissively.

Taking that as consent he took the seat next to her, glancing through one of the open books. "Basilisks?"

"Yes. If one saw the eyes indirectly, say through a mirror-"

"Or a puddle of water," Harry said, catching on.

"Or a puddle of water," she agreed, "then I believe the result would be Petrification instead of death."

"That's brilliant!"

"And it also makes sense. Basilisks are snakes, and Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth! If there was any monster suited to be Slytherin's pet, then that would be it. But…"

"But? And what's a Parselmouth?"

Hermione bit her lip. "A Parselmouth is someone who can speak the snake language," she replied impatiently, abruptly switching back to her earlier complaint, "But there's no way to test it! I've been looking for documented cases of basilisks to check, but it's not going very well. And if it really is a basilisk, it would have to be centuries old. How on earth would something that big get around the school?"

Harry shrugged, trying to push away memories of the Dueling Club. "But it's the best guess we have so far. Do you want some help?" Was he a Parselmouth? That would explain why he could understand the snake, at least.

She hesitated briefly before smiling at him. "Yes, I would. Thank-you, Harry."


End file.
